#she is so profoundly attached/in love with him that she HAS to do little things that honor his memory after hes gone

[clicheantagonist]

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[djarins-cyare]

Never Look Down

Part 2: Maia’s (Your) Morning

← Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 7,830

Tags/warnings: POV switch, hangover hell, light angst, confessions, even more references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, kissing, reference to fellatio, a lot of fluff, Reader has a name (and a job and an inkling of a backstory). Regarding her prior bad relationship, I don’t want anyone to be triggered by an assumption, so please note she was NOT in an abusive situation. Her former partner was just a drug-dealing douche.

Author’s note: I finished something new! [*cries in disbelief*] 😭. Thank you so much for your interest and support! 💖

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

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You wake up somewhere dark and soft. It takes you several seconds to realise where you are due to the throbbing ache in your head that’s screaming for focus.

You’re in Din’s bed.

Oh fuck.

Well… more like no fuck. A shameful absence thereof.

Slowly, memories of the previous night drift to the surface of your foggy brain, each one deepening your embarrassment until you’ve reached the pitiful depths of utter humiliation. It cuts deeper than your hangover, which includes a pounding headache and a bruised shoulder (how did that happen?), yet is almost trivial in comparison. Kark, you drank – and said and did – a lot more than you should’ve.

Babysitting Grogu is not your primary source of income. In fact, you have a contract with Karga for city planning and infrastructure upgrades. But that’s just building holos, presenting them to the High Magistrate, and then outsourcing the work upon approval. It’s sporadic and flexible, leaving you with plenty of hours to kill. You took this part-time job to keep yourself busy, but you’ve come to enjoy hanging out with the little guy and his bafflingly sexy father. Both are good fun, have always been friendly and welcoming, and you’re fond of their company. Who are you kidding – you’re profoundly attached to them both. Plus, Din has taught you to use a blaster, helping you feel safer and more self-reliant now you’re free of your ex’s ‘protection’. The extra credits are merely a bonus, and you’d do this for free if it came to it.

Well, not this. Not turn up drunk, pass out in your boss’s refresher, then misread a gesture of kindness as a sexual advance. And you just had to fucking let your thoughts spill out, didn’t you? Shit, you basically told him you think he’s a virgin! Sure, you’ve wondered, but you’ve never drawn any conclusions, so why did you have to vocalise those thoughts as if you had? You’ve been so careful to avoid suggesting his commitment to his creed might be impeding anything fun. So what if he can’t eat with you or sleep with you – that’s his choice. He probably thinks you’re judging him now. You shouldn’t have opened your mouth, damn it!

Of course he rejected you.

How could you ever have thought Din would want to be with you after everything you did last night? There are so many reasons for him to have walked away like he did. Not only did you fail to provide trustworthy childcare, but you also vomited in his toilet and were a drunken burden on him after he’d had to go out on a job. Then you assumed he wanted sex, implied he might not have the requisite skills, stripped naked, climbed under his sheets, and stole his fucking bed for the whole night.

You’re a disgrace. The regret burns in your chest, branding you from the inside out as the fool who pushed a former bounty hunter too far.

Plus, you work for the guy, so that’s surely a factor. Your role here is simply to take care of his kid. At least it was. And, of course, he’s never shown any interest in you. In fact, whenever you’ve wondered if the two of you are having ‘a moment’, he’s always run away.

Why did you have to make an already bad situation so much worse by revealing your desires? You were coping fine with your self-imposed celibacy. Sure, it was frustrating, but you were surviving. Repressing your libido around him was working for you.

As much as you want to hide beneath the blankets and avoid the fallout, you know you can’t stay in Din’s bed forever. Even though it’s soft and warm and smells like him – fresh yet with a hint of spicy musk. You really can’t.

Fumbling to activate the lamp, you drain the water on the nightstand, noting your clothes strewn across the floor. Thankfully, they don’t smell of alcohol or vomit (at least you’re a tidy drunk), so you get dressed and stumble to the refresher. More memories return at that crime scene, adding to your shame spiral and giving you a likely reason for your bruised shoulder.

Din has left his ultrasound cleaner out of the cabinet, which has to be a suggestion that you use it, and you can take a hint. You recall complaining that your mouth tasted like bantha balls, and accepting his pity is the lesser evil. Though it’s far more than you deserve, it’s also far better than this flavour.

You gladly let the vibrations clean your mouth and then rinse away the residue, feeling much better for it. It’s not enough to ease your thumping headache, but it’s a start.

You can’t hear any noise from upstairs or across the hall, so you wonder if your hosts are still asleep. It’s clearly past dawn since daylight is spilling down the staircase, but it could still be early. Maybe you can just slip out unnoticed? You debate checking on Grogu first. Din probably slept on the couch, though there’s a cushioned chair in the kid’s room that he could’ve used.

Guilt and concern make you check on your charge despite the risk of waking a metal sentinel. But you’re surprised to discover an empty room. That means they’re either both upstairs and being quiet, or they’ve gone out. You’re hoping for the latter. Zandi insisted you meet her for lunch, but part of you wants to run straight to your friend’s place and cry about what an idiot you’ve been. Hmm, no. You should go home for a shower first. Not that it could wash off the disgrace, but it might ease your aching head, at least.

You dart across the hall for your shoes, straightening out your boss’s sheets before you leave (a token apology, if anything). Catching sight of a comb on top of his dresser sends another type of guilt burning through you. Stealing his bed was already an invasion of privacy, but learning about what he hides beneath the beskar feels worse. You anxiously smooth down the blankets, flick off the lamp, and tiptoe up the stairs.

Thankfully, you find an empty living space, lit by sunshine so bright that you realise it’s already mid-morning. Din must have taken Grogu to school.

There’s no sign of your glowrod, but you don’t care. He can keep it. You shove on your boots with as much haste as you can manage and fly to the exit, darting through. Kriff, it’s so blinding outside that you have to turn your back to the sun or risk your hangover increasing tenfold.

Just as you’re gulping lungfuls of fresh air and keying in the lock code to secure the cabin, you hear him.

“Feeling better?”

The Mandalorian steps out from behind the cabin, and you wonder if he’s been waiting to ambush you. Damn it, you should’ve known. Bounty hunter.

You can’t look him in the eyes. Well, the visor, really. Either way, you fix your gaze on the porch. You’d normally come out with something playful and witty, but today, your brain gives you nothing except wry honesty.

“The hangover and torturous headache are nothing compared to my embarrassment,” you answer sheepishly. “I am so sorry about last night.”

You don’t specify which part because you mean all of it. Drinking to excess and throwing up in his home, as well as climbing into his bed, stripping off, and assuming he would fuck you, then commenting on how you thought he couldn’t fuck you. You’re sure you’ll never live down this shame.

Din doesn’t respond to your apology, but he steps forward, a wall of beskar and muscle blocking you from leaving the porch. He leans past you – so close he almost traps you against the door – and reverses the lock code you just entered.

When the door behind you swishes open again, he gestures inside with a nod. “We gotta talk.”

Oh, frotz, this is bad. This is so so so bad. He’s normally relaxed and happy around you, welcoming (or at least tolerating) your friendly jokes and nicknames. But right now, he’s all stiffness and silence, thumbs in his belt and elbows out wide, staring you down as if you were prey. He is not happy with you. You’ve fucked up bad.

You’re going to lose your job. It’s not a substantial source of income, but you’ll lose your bonding time with the kid and the friendly teasing thing you’ve developed with his dad. You won’t get to watch how strong and beautiful this warrior-turned-father is anymore, how soft he is with Grogu, despite his hard beskar shell. There’ll be no more shooting lessons. He’s going to tell you how offensive your remarks were last night… kark, what if he has a duty to punish anyone who disrespects his creed? Is it disrespectful to suggest he can’t have sex, though? Maybe the offensive thing was you throwing yourself at him. Or perhaps he thinks you’re hideous and finds the idea of having sex with you offensive. Whatever the case, he’s going to—

“Maia….”

Hearing your name growled through his modulator snaps you out of your spiralling thoughts, and you realise you’re just standing there gawking at him in the doorway.

Suddenly, you feel meek in his presence, which has never happened before. Even when you first met, he was careful to make you feel safe and welcome. This menacing demeanour is new.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Can I just go home?”

Din looms closer like a rancor threatening its prey. “This won’t take long,” he insists.

With widened eyes, you shrink back toward the scene of your crimes, your near freedom now a fool’s delusion. He walks forward as you step backward across the cabin’s threshold, maintaining the proximity – a fateful dance that promises a morning even more tragic than the night before.

“Sit,” he commands, gesturing to the couch. He watches you perch yourself where you’re told to and then nods, appeased by your obedience.

A heavy silence clouds the room as your soon-to-be-ex boss flicks on the caf maker and heats the beverage while you quietly unravel on the couch. You’re not even sure what this is. It feels like he’s about to punish you (and not in a good way), but you have no idea how. Is he going to yell at you? Torture you with some kind of ritualistic Mandalorian justice? Or is he just going to describe how disappointed he is, fire you from this job, and threaten to roast you with his flamethrowers if he catches you anywhere near Grogu?

Whatever’s about to happen, you’re zealously ignoring the part of you that’s low-key turned on by how dominant he’s acting this morning. You can’t examine that right now.

After a minute or two, Din brings a cup to the couch and perches beside you, performing an awkward shuffle as he angles his body toward you. Still unsure how to act, you remain facing straight ahead, watching him in your peripheral.

He’s fully armoured this morning, his movements determined but stiff, and you recall how fluidly his body moved when he was just down to his flight suit. When he swept you into his arms, cradled you against his chest, and carried you to his bed…

No! Bad thoughts! Now is not the time for those because you’re about to receive the worst reprimand of your life (and you work for Karga!).

But your brain won’t stop replaying the memory, leading you to a distracting notion. He keeps his armour on the shelves in his bedroom – you saw it there last night. That means he must have come in to grab it this morning while you were sleeping. Damn, he’s stealthy! Though, to be fair, you were utterly passed out.

Wait. You woke up fully covered and tucked in. You don’t recall falling asleep, but you do remember arranging the blanket for optimum cleavage display. Kark, you really hope you snuggled down properly in your sleep. Because if not, there’s a chance that he opened his door to an inadvertent boob extravaganza, and he covered you up for the sake of your dignity. Fuck! How much shame can you suffer in a single morning?

He still hasn’t started talking, so before your thoughts ricochet in yet another distressing direction, you prompt, “You, uh, said we need to talk?” It’s probably best to confront your impending doom so you can run home and scream into a pillow.

Din huffs a little. “We do. Doesn’t mean I know how to start.”

Hmm, well, he doesn’t seem too angry, at least. Perhaps there won’t be any Mandalorian torture-based vengeance after all.

You don’t have the energy to play ‘guess the punishment’, but maybe you can stave it off if you beg for mercy. “Okay, then let me start. I said and did some monumentally stupid things last night, and I understand if you can’t forgive me and never want to see me again. But I just need you to know how truly sorry I am and that I really didn’t mean to offend you, and if I could—”

“Stop apologising,” he interrupts, shaking his helmet.

His order startles you into silence. It was insistent, but he didn’t sound angry at all. In fact, there was an undertone of something else. Almost the amused side of frustrated. What the kriff is happening?

Din sighs and tilts his visor toward his lap, then seems surprised to realise he’s still clutching the caf he made but clearly can’t drink in your presence. He silently offers you the steaming cup, and after a beat, you accept it, staring at it just as he did.

Never has a cup of caf received as much scrutiny as when two parties are unsure how to vocalise their thoughts.

“I made it for you,” he offers. “Thought… with the hangover….”

“Thanks,” you mumble, unsure what else to do or say. This isn’t going as expected at all, and your confusion is only growing. Is he doing some kind of bounty hunter ‘killing with kindness’ act?

This is absurd. You just need to get him talking, accept your punishment, and then you can escape.

“Um,” you begin, and his shadowed visor fixes on you again, unsettling you further. “If… if you don’t want to hear my apologies… what do you want to talk about?”

Your reluctant host forces out his response like it’s stuck inside his throat. “I want… I wanna ask you… some things. And I need you to answer honestly.”

Your stomach churns with nerves. He has questions? He must want you to explain what you said. He’s going to make you relive it – not by telling you how offensive you were, but by making you deconstruct your own comments and actions.

Kark. It’s a punishment, alright.

But if the penalty for your folly is the discomfort of explaining yourself, you can deal with that. This is a man you’re used to teasing, and he sounds just as unsure about what to say here as you are. So, you need to gather your confidence and endure whatever awkwardness this brings up.

You square your shoulders and lift your chin. “Okay… ask me.”

“You’ll answer? Honestly?” There’s an edge of desperation in Din’s voice from which you intuit his real meaning. You need to check any joking at the door.

Well, your current embarrassment level is sky-high, so whatever he wants you to respond to or admit surely can’t be much worse. You’ve already laid yourself (literally) bare for him. “I will. You got a slice of my inner dialogue last night, so I might as well continue the honesty.”

“Good… thank you.” He releases a profound sigh, a rush of static through the vocoder, and appears to gather himself for his first question. “Why do you think my creed means I can’t…?” He trails off, but you follow his meaning and match his heavy sigh.

“I don’t really think that,” you assure him. “Honestly, I’ve never known what to think, which means I’ve made no assumptions either way. But I guess… my drunken brain felt it was… safer to err on the side of caution when addressing it out loud.”

You’re not in the least bit surprised that he’s starting with this. If he is a virgin, you’ve mocked him, and if he isn’t, you’ve no doubt hurt his pride.

When he doesn’t respond, you suggest, “If that’s your first question, it sounds like you’re worried I’m judging you, so let me reinforce what I just said. ‘No assumptions’ means ‘no judgments’. But if you want to clarify things, I can promise you that whatever the truth is, I still won’t judge you.”

The importance Din is giving this topic is by far the biggest clue to the likely truth. No virgin would question you in the way that he just did. If they mentioned it at all, they’d probably just insist it’s not a topic for you to concern yourself with and never speak of it again. But inviting him to confirm his expertise gives him an easy way to lay the matter to rest. It’s also the kindest thing to do in the wake of your drunken foolishness.

He nods a fraction, accepting the premise, pausing while he chooses his words. “My creed doesn’t impose any rules relating to that, only that I cannot remove my helmet. And… some people kind of, uh… they get off on the mystery. So I do pretty well when I need to… blow off some steam.”

Huh. That was surprisingly direct (for him). You can’t help but smile, wondering if your delight stems from finally having proof that he isn’t without experience or that this discussion (so far) isn’t about how badly you fucked up.

Hoping to conceal your thoughts and keep the focus on him, you instantly slide back into teasing mode with a new nickname and a vague compliment of sorts. “Super Stud! You’re very discreet.”

“That’s the idea,” he confirms, ignoring his new moniker. “Although it’s by no means frequent, and since I got Grogu, I haven’t had….” He clears his throat. “Time and opportunity are rare.”

As much as you wish Din would choose to ‘blow off some steam’ with you, all you hear is a chance to atone for last night’s thoughtless actions. “I can take care of him while you go have some fun…?”

A massive scoff comes through the vocoder, and he shakes his helmet widely. “No, Maia, that’s… that’s not gonna work.”

But you persist, desperate to make amends. “Oh, come on, Metal Man, you deserve a break. Isn’t there anyone on Nevarro you can call for some fun?”

He sighs. “I have… options, yes.”

You furrow your brow at that. “So why did you say time and opportunity are rare? If you’ve got options, why don’t you just get your shiny ass laid while I do what you pay me for and take care of—”

A distinctly peeved huff crackles through the modulator, and you instantly fall silent. You forgot you’re not supposed to be teasing. Nor is it clear yet whether you still have a job. Foot, meet mouth.

He curtly redirects you. “Next question.” You assent with a nod, but when he continues, his tone is suddenly guarded and awkward. “Last night, you said… you suggested… that you and I might… blow off some steam.”

Fuck, this is the part you were dreading, and your pulse picks up. He seems nervous. Is that good or bad? Well, it’s better than angry and scary. You try to freeze your movements to avoid either wincing or looking too eager, nervously awaiting his question.

“Was that… because of the alcohol? Or… something, uh… real?” All you detect in his voice is discomfort, so you can’t tell which option he hopes for.

You sigh and take a careful slurp of the scalding hot caf to buy yourself time. It’s hard to answer because there’s a lot at risk. If you’re too honest about your feelings and Din doesn’t feel the same way, your relationship might end – professional as well as personal.

But once again, the fact that he’s asking suggests your answer is important to him, so the odds are likely in your favour. If he wasn’t attracted to you, surely he’d play it down and give you a way to save face. Just say he knew your silly drunken advances were simply an extension of your usual urge to tease and meant nothing, and that he forgives you for them. Surely he wouldn’t ask if they were ‘real’.

The concept sparks a tiny flame of hope in a dark and dusty corner of your mind, a pinprick of light to chase away the fears you walked in here with.

However, you can’t be too hasty or draw conclusions without facts. Though this isn’t going as dreadfully as you feared it might, the sensible option is to avoid getting your hopes up. He asked you for honesty, so you’ll give him that, but you decide to err on the side of caution again. An assumption against any interest on his part shouldn’t be offensive.

“It wasn’t… totally the alcohol,” you confess cautiously, and you see his body instantly tense up. Is that a positive reaction? “I’ve been trying to remember exactly what I said to you. I told you it was a ‘dream’, right?” Din nods once. “Well… that’s true. I admit I’ve had some daydreams about the idea. But it felt… safer not to mention it. Last night, you made it clear you weren’t interested in me, and you’ve never given me any reason to think otherwise, so I—”

“I did no such thing.”

Shit. The anger you were afraid of is finally colouring the Mandalorian’s tone, and he leans forward with his vehement denial.

What did you say wrong? Did you tease too soon with the new nickname just now? Shock and confusion contort themselves across your face, and you shrink backward.

He almost growls at your retreat, and the creak of his leather gloves as he clenches his fists has you bracing yourself for trouble. You honestly can’t tell if you’re turned on or terrified.

Before you can decide, he declares, “Last night, I had to walk away from a beautiful naked woman in my bed because she’d been drinking, and I would never do anything without full consent. I did not make it clear I wasn’t interested in you. Fuck, Maia, I have dreams about you too. All the time.”

Your mouth hangs open in surprise. Even knowing it was vaguely possible, you weren’t ready for that response.

He has dreams about you too!

Now that he’s confessed what got him so worked up, you see him make a visible effort to calm down.

His next words are much softer, soothing your prior unease, though your heart continues to thump from his admission. “Time and opportunity are rare because you’re Grogu’s babysitter, and that kid loves you. When he’s not with me, he wants to be with you. He only goes to school twice a week. That’s not a lot of time or—”

“—or opportunity,” you finish. “Okay, I get it. Why didn’t you say anything before? We could’ve been blowing off steam on schooldays for months already, but I had no idea. I would’ve climbed naked into your bed way sooner if I’d known.”

Din groans, a low and sinful rumble, and you wonder if you shouldn’t have put those images in his mind.

A deep breath later, he answers, “My son is my priority; his needs come before mine. He needs a good babysitter more than I need a good… uh….” He trails off and clears his throat. “And last night was the first time you’d ever said anything. I had no idea either.”

“But, but…” you stammer. Okay, so you’ve been keeping it to yourself, but you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on your attraction at all. “I’m flirting and checking you out all the crinking time, Metal Man. I thought bounty hunters were observant?”

He hums as if he’s flattered by your admission. “Teasing me is not a sign of anything on its own. And I’ve never seen you look anywhere other than directly at my helmet. You would’ve noticed my interest otherwise.” You furrow your brow slightly, not following, and he shakes his head in frustration. “You never look down.”

You look down.

Holy mother of meteors…

That is one obscenely snug flight suit and one fucking impressive erection.

Granted, you’ve noticed he’s been wearing the loose flight suit pants more often. In fact, you’ve missed being able to check out his toned ass in the closer-fitting ones. But since you can’t see where he’s looking, you’ve always been careful to keep your roving eyes chaste whenever he’s facing you. And, kriff, you never figured the reason for his wardrobe change was to hide this glorious attribute.

“Wow,” you breathe, unsure of what else to say. Suddenly, the volume on your headache reduces, and your lust levels shoot up. It’s so….

Din fidgets slightly, perhaps on edge because of your sudden scrutiny. Oops.

You revert your gaze to his visor, chancing some levity to ease the tension. “If I wasn’t fighting a skull-splitting hangover, I’d have a whole host of new nicknames for you already. Something about being as hard as beskar or carrying a concealed weapon… ugh, gimme a day, I’ll come up with a winner.”

His chuckle suggests the ice between you is now well and truly broken. You knock back the rest of your caf in the relaxed pause. It’s still hotter than you prefer, but perhaps it’ll quell your desire.

He lets you finish before breaking the easy silence. “Another question before you go, if it’s okay. Maybe a couple more, depending on how you answer the first one. I’d rather not leave this topic hanging now that we’ve addressed it.”

“Sure.” Right now, you’re willing to give this man whatever he wants.

“Okay. There’s another reason I walked away last night – besides your drunken state. It’s why I haven’t mentioned this before.” He swallows and inhales shakily. “You told me that your last relationship was terrible. And the fact that you chose to celebrate its end tells me you value your freedom. On my side, my relationships are rarely meaningful or long-term. So it might seem easiest to keep things casual.”

He pauses, but it’s unclear whether he wants your input. You can’t tell where he’s going with this, so you give him a one-shouldered shrug.

He leans forward and rests his vambraces on his cuisses. “If Grogu wasn’t around, it might be. But casual never ends well, and I will not threaten the bond you two have just for something meaningless. For the child’s sake, we gotta be sure where we stand before we… act on any of this. I can’t do casual with you, Maia. So the first question is: are you interested enough to try something… meaningful? Because if you’re not, we gotta bury this.”

He’s right. You start to understand why he got so worked up at your admission that you’re attracted to him for real. It complicates things.

He’s asked a logical and vital question, and you take a moment to give it due attention. Whatever happens, this cannot threaten your employment. So where are the lines?

You’ve felt something for Din from the start, and your attraction has only grown. That line is already blurred, and it hasn’t threatened anything, but it helps you see what he’s getting at. Your attachment to him and Grogu has become far more profound than you expected, so you couldn’t do casual even if you tried. It could only harm your bond with the kid if you tried to repress that attachment and keep things casual with his father.

Simply put, your feelings are already meaningful, so whatever comes next must be too.

Strangely, that doesn’t scare you. Your prior experience was poor – both oppressive and neglectful – but you were a displaced teenager on a new planet looking for protection when you got into that. Din is nothing like your ex, and this couldn’t be more different. You have faith in this man and, thus, faith in your answer.

“I am,” you confirm with a smile. “Are you?” He’s already confirmed he won’t do casual, but you need his agreement to start something meaningful.

He swallows, then echoes, “I am.”

A thrilling but weighty moment passes as you both digest this, just staring at one another in the wake of your mutual confessions. The air feels charged with promise. You can almost taste it.

It’s hard to judge how long has passed when he speaks again. “Second question. Did you use my ultrasound cleaner?”

Well, that’s a non sequitur. You have no idea how this query relates to your previous answer, but you nod nonetheless.

“Great. Come with me.”

He stands and leads you downstairs, stepping into his room and tapping on the main lights. When he sees that you’ve made his bed, he hums happily.

You’re quiet but hopeful, the heady feeling of promise that consumed you last night slowly filling you up once more as he turns to face you and beckons you closer.

“We should take this slow,” he starts. “You’re hungover, and I want you to feel comfortable when we….” He nods at the bed, oddly still reticent to describe the act.

“When we fuck.”

Din releases the cutest whimper and tugs at his pants. “That is not helping me with this problem. If you keep talking like that, I might not be able to resist,” he warns.

You scoff. “Shiny, are you really trying to threaten me with sex? Kriff, please tell me you didn’t use this tactic on any bounties back in the day.”

“No, I did not. And I’m trying to save that until your head doesn’t hurt,” he sighs. “But… question three. Before you go home, can I… kiss you?”

Your eyebrows shoot up as surprise and desire collide and carve a messy path through your chest, sending your heart tumbling into a double-time beat.

“Are you…” You’re not quite sure how to phrase your query, still chagrined by last night’s verbal blunders. “Is that some kind of metaphor? Does ‘kissing’ mean something different for Mandalorians with the whole helmet thing? Because if we’re just gonna thumb wrestle or something, I’m still in, but it’s kind of weird to call it kissing.”

He chuckles, and it eases your worry. “We do have a kissing substitute, but no, in this case, I meant what I said. I just gotta turn the lights out so you can’t see me when I remove my helmet. If that’s okay.”

All of your fears and concerns melt away with his answer. Gone are your worries about your budding romance having awkward or difficult restrictions, replaced by a certainty that you can handle not making eye contact. If observing that single caveat allows you to be with this man, you don’t even consider it a sacrifice.

Well, if he brought you down here to ensure it’s dark enough, you can help with that. You saunter to the door and touch the control to slide it closed, blocking out the sunshine filtering down the stairs, and then you turn to him with a smile. “It’s very okay. I’m not leaving here without a kiss, Din.”

He sucks in a modulated breath and doesn’t move for a second. “You… used my name.”

You know you’re allowed to – he’s told you that many times – but you find the nicknames help to maintain a friendly distance. Treat him as a friend, not as a lover. Except now things are changing.

“I thought I’d practice,” you explain. “I’m guessing that when we do get in that bed together, you’d prefer I scream out your real name instead of ‘Shiny’ or ‘Beskar Boy’.”

He groans sinfully again and reaches for you, fixing a glove around your wrist and tugging you to stand beside the shelves he stores his armour on. “Don’t move,” he instructs. Then he releases your wrist and taps a button on his vambrace, and the lights very slowly fade out until the room is darker than the void between galaxies.

Suddenly, sensations are everything. You can detect the warmth of Din’s body so close to yours, though you’re not yet touching. You hear him breathing more audibly than usual, a gentle but slightly stuttered hiss through the vocoder. You feel the air swirl around you as he raises his hands to his helmet…

The rhythmic thump of your heartbeat quickens, and despite your lack of sight, it’s as if the events occur in flashes between the beats. The absence of sound as you hold your breath. The gentle rustle as he slides off the metal helmet. The muffled clang when it hits the shelf as he lines it up. The scrape of the edge as he pushes it home. The nervous breath he releases in the subsequent silence, reminding you to exhale too.

Then he’s reaching for you, and your mind goes blank as his hands find your hips, closing the distance further. It’s not close enough to feel his arousal against you, although that’s probably wise. But if you weren’t still harbouring a headache, you’d be unable to resist pressing forward and seeking the impressive bulge you admired upstairs. Instead, you lay your palms on his cuirass and slide upward, burying your fingers in his cloak. That’s as high as you’ll go until you know what’s allowed.

One of Din’s gloved hands engulfs the nape of your neck, and you love how he’s controlling this, moving you in the dark to where he wants you. You can tell he’s leaned in closer by the sound of his breathing – more audible without the beskar barrier. Then there’s a sense of warmth on your skin as he brings you close enough to nuzzle at your hairline, gently at first, until you register the distinct press of his nose against your temple.

You feel it just before he speaks, his breath tickling near your ear as he opens his mouth to husk smooth, unmodulated words. “Go easy on me; it’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

Fuck, his voice is gorgeous. It resonates through you like a rumbling storm, drenching you with wanton promise, unleashing a different wetness upon you. If there were any frequency that could subdue your headache, it would be his soft and smoky timbre.

“Oh?” It’s all you can manage; a single syllable of surprise at his admission. He seems so confident.

“Mm,” he confirms, brushing his lips softly near the corner of your eye, and you detect some stubble around them. “Before we swear the Creed, we spend a while doing the things we’re taught to avoid after. I’ve only used this loophole once since then. So….” He trails off and presses a gentle kiss to the crest of your cheekbone, warm lips on soft skin, and you melt in his arms.

You want to assure him that he’s nailing it, preparing you so perfectly that he seems like an expert kisser, no matter how little practice he’s had. You want to thank him for deeming you worthy enough to use this rare loophole and express your stunned gratitude at the privilege he’s allowing you. But the notion of speaking confounds you, and all you can do is lift your chin and indicate your willingness to do this.

Din gets the message.

You can sense his nerves in the way he cautiously presses his lips against yours. But in the millisecond it takes to register a connection, your body reacts before your brain and electricity shoots through your nerve endings. Instantly, thousands of perfect explosions stud your skin, making you shiver in bliss.

He’s sweet, gentle, respectful… and it’s good. But it’s a little chaste for your liking, and you can tell he’s holding himself back. He needs to let go, so you emit a low hum of pleasure, which spurs him on and increases his fervour. You gently part your lips, and he gets the hint and takes the lead, deepening the kiss until your tongues meet – a touch that halts the spin of the whole galaxy around you.

Then he lets go. It’s as if he’s suddenly remembered how to breathe after holding his breath for decades, and oh, how utterly starved of oxygen he’s been. This kiss is feeding him, keeping him alive. His tightened grip, the tremors of lust you detect running through him, the way he almost whimpers into your mouth… it’s assertive and adorable in equal measures.

You can feel his inexperience, but you let him lead anyway. He gets lost in the sensations a few times, his rhythm faltering, but he corrects himself and responds keenly to your subtle signals of what’s good. It’s not long before you’re locked in a perfect moment, sharing an exquisite kiss with your ideal man.

When you part, it’s by mere centimetres, and you’re so full of happy chemicals that your hangover is barely a niggle at the back of your brain.

“I think that fixed my headache,” you purr against his lips. “I bet I could even thumb wrestle you now….” You have no clue what you’re implying, but you’re low-key horny, and openly flirting with him for once is fun.

Din’s unmodulated chuckle is the cutest thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, I was aiming for ‘mindblowing’, but I’ll take ‘headache-fixing’,” he jests, bantering right back for once. You can’t help but close the tiny distance to steal another lingering yet closed-mouth kiss, eager to show him just how addictive his efforts were.

Once again, your lips barely separate, lingering close. “Oh, it’s blown alright – completely offline. Probably why it doesn’t hurt anymore.” A salacious idea comes to you then, and you voice it a hair’s breadth from his mouth, knowing he’ll refuse but wanting to show you’re willing. “Maybe now it’s my turn to blow something of yours….”

The sharp gasp he sucks in and raggedly exhales indicates he’s just pictured your suggestion and played the image to its fruition. In the pitch-black room, you can pick up on his obvious arousal through sound and touch – the almost-groan he swallows, the twitch of all the muscles in his body as he reins himself in.

There’s a pause as he considers your proposal, and you can tell he’s waging a war with himself to refuse. You’ve put him in a difficult position. But this new closeness allows you to upgrade friendly teasing into full-on flirting, and you can’t resist.

It takes longer than you expect, but Din finally releases a shuddering breath, swallows, and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then he rasps, “I would enjoy that very much, but it’s not why I brought you down here, mesh’la.”

Mesh’la? Who the fuck is that? You stiffen in his arms, unable to process the idea that he’s just said someone else’s name during an intimate moment. Even if it does sound similar enough to yours that you could maybe understand the slip, how could he—?

“Maia,” you correct pointedly as your thoughts spiral, pulling away slightly, your stomach suddenly in knots.

He tightens his hold and hurriedly assures you, “Hey, no, it’s not— mesh’la means ‘beautiful’ in Mando’a.”

There’s a tense pause, and then you murmur, “Ah,” embarrassed and glad you didn’t instantly flip out at your incorrect assumption, then suddenly flattered by the compliment. As you fall back into his embrace, your sluggish brain gives you nothing more, too confused by the pelting of emotions you just received in quick succession. Perhaps it’s best to adopt Din’s usual policy of silence.

But he saves you from your chagrin and redirects you to another topic. “Final question. Can I make you dinner one evening this week? We agreed we’re aiming for something… meaningful here. Getting physical right away is not the best way to achieve that.” He squeezes your waist with the hand that’s remained in place throughout. “As much as I’m looking forward to that part.”

A sweet smile is your reply, though you realise he can’t see it in the dark. Luckily, it’s followed up by the return of your vocabulary. “Dinner sounds good. Grogu too?” You love the little womp rat, but this sounds like a date, so you’d rather it wasn’t crashed by a decades-old toddler.

Din hums as he follows your thought process. “The kids at his school keep inviting him on playdates and sleepovers. The parents seem like good people, so I’m sure we could arrange something both he and I would be happy with.”

You nod. “Then I look forward to our first date.” You can’t imagine how a dinner date will work with a guy who can’t show his face, but at least now you know there are loopholes. Perhaps he has another for eating together.

“Me too… mesh’la Maia.” You hear his slightly cheeky but utterly earnest tone, and you can’t help grinning. How apt that he should give you a nickname just when you decide to start using his real name.

You want to kiss him again, but since you pulled away a little, you can’t judge where his face is anymore, and you’re not sure if you’re allowed to touch him to locate it. “Another kiss before I leave, gorgeous guy?” (Two can play the nickname game, and you started it).

“Always,” Din agrees through a chuckle, bringing you in close again with the hand on your neck, finding your lips and pressing something firmer, more resolute there. You open eagerly for him and revel in the thrust of his tongue against yours. He’s settling into it now, more confident in himself and his technique, while carefully heeding your responses.

You enjoy it while you can – the sensations, the taste, the warmth, the delicious calm energy that washes through you with his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hand on your neck. You commit the feelings to memory, unsure when you’ll get to do it again. You hope you won’t have to wait too long for your date.

It’s over too soon, but you accept that it has to be. As you separate, you attempt to lock in the memories of the features you’ve felt pressed against you – stubble, soft lips, a strong nose. It’s not much, but it’s more than you had before.

Din’s hand falls from your neck, and you bemoan the loss of heat and comfort, spiralling back toward your hangover from the heady heights of such an intimate moment. As you hear the scrape of his helmet on the shelf’s edge again, you panic a little and blurt out, “What’s your hair like?”

He freezes, and your panic swells for a different reason. Based on the comb you spotted on his dresser earlier, you’re confident you’re not asking a bald man to describe his hair, but perhaps it’s forbidden to ask.

“I-I mean, if I’m not allowed to know, then forget I asked. I just… now that I’ve felt your lips, it’s made me wonder about the rest. It’s fine if you can’t tell me, though.”

A few seconds later, the scrape of the helmet resumes, and he slides it into his grasp. But you don’t hear him put it on.

Din’s reply is a low whisper, and he sounds even more nervous than he was before you kissed. “You can’t see my face… but you can touch it. If you want.”

Oh. You wonder how many people have touched his face, which makes you hesitate. This feels more intimate than you should be getting right now. “Thank you. I think… just your hair today. I’ll explore the rest of you on our date, face included.” That promise wins you an eager hum.

Your hands remain buried in his cloak, so you slide one to the back of his neck and rake upward. A gasp escapes you as you feel soft strands, longer than you expected and curling slightly at the ends. You picture the cutest mess of unruly waves.

“Is it… what colour is it?” You’ve seen him without his gloves a few times – last night included – so you know his skin is a warm amber. But human genetics are so diverse that you can’t really assume anything about his hair based on that.

It takes a few seconds for him to answer, busy sighing in bliss and pressing his head into your palm like a tooka getting stroked. “Dark,” he replies simply. It’s unclear whether he’s hypnotised by your hand in his hair or he’s not used to disclosing details about himself. Both are fair excuses, and you have much more data than you did ten minutes ago either way. You’re convinced he’s gorgeous.

“Thank you, Din,” you offer as you force yourself to stop running your fingers through his silken waves and withdraw a step.

There’s a quiet rustle as he places his helmet back on and seals it. “You’re welcome.” It’s modulated again, but there’s something about hearing that metallic rasp that makes you smile. You just kissed the source of that sound.

With a muffled beep from his vambrace, the lights fade up again, revealing an impassive black T-visor. However, the armoured body below it somehow looks more relaxed and assured. Gone is the stiffness you felt in his limbs earlier, and though you wonder if a certain stiffness in his pants remains, you’re not about to start ogling him when you should be going home.

So you smile and suggest, “Walk me out?” and you’re rewarded with a nod.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a different person. Though your foggy head throbs and your bruised shoulder smarts, your very essence sparkles with an energy you’ve never felt before. It flares with each lingering touch the Mandalorian bestows upon you, with every prolonged stare of his visor, and with his soft instruction to get home safe.

He’ll call you, he promises, slipping a new comlink into your hand.

When you exit the cabin for the second time in one morning, you feel like a better person. The girl who disgraced herself last night has gone, leaving a happier and more fulfilled version in her place. Even so, you’re sure glad that idiot version of yourself ran her mouth and became the catalyst for your new path with Din.

And you can’t wait to look down again. Maybe next time you’ll get to go down too.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Get ready for more loquacious end notes…

Maia’s job was inspired by this scene from s3e5. She’s not a civil engineer, but, like, she could be that girl with the datapad – doing all the planning and building the holos while the engineer gets all the glory (can you tell I work in a support role??).

I originally wrote details at the end of part one of everything Din decided – that she must be attracted to him based on how she worded things, and that he’d talk to her to verify that and determine whether it was something she’d like to act on or just ignore. But I realised it was better for the story to leave his intentions a mystery (is the thing he ‘doesn’t want to have to do’ ejecting her from his life, or simply having a grownup conversation?), which hopefully lets you feel more of Maia’s fear here.

I feel like there’s a lot of scope for misunderstandings, not just because of Din’s helmet, but also because he can be socially awkward. So there he is, massively attracted to this girl who threw herself at him the night before but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just sort of gravitates towards her, tries to get close. Is he sort of flirting? Maybe. The ‘get in their personal space’ thing might work for him when he’s casually picking someone up. So his actions here are him trying to say with body language “I like you too, I want to get closer,” but she misunderstands because of her embarrassment, sees it as intimidation, and shies away – a response which makes him even more clueless about how to vocalise things.

I hope the switch from third person (she/her) pronouns in part 1 Din’s POV to second person (you/your) pronouns in part 2 Maia’s POV wasn’t too clunky. I know it’s popular in this fandom to use second-person pronouns (you/your) even when writing from a third person’s POV (Din’s), but I just can’t make myself do it. If he’s the one whose head we’re in, when he’s thinking about the woman he’s attracted to, he wouldn’t be thinking “damn, you’re hot”, he’d be thinking “damn, she’s hot”. I was taught that we should hear internal dialogue exactly as it would sound to the person thinking it, thus we should use third-person pronouns when inside his head. You/your is only for when we’re inside the reader’s head (second-person POV so second-person pronouns). And of course, I/me pronouns are used if we’re ever inside the author’s head (first person POV). I hope that explains the switch here. I swear I can’t help my annoying adherence to grammar rules – it’s just been drilled into me. I wish I could be more flexible sometimes, but unfortunately the autism always wins 😔

GIF made by me again, slightly less blurry this time.

Definitions: An ultrasound cleaner is basically a sonic toothbrush from Legends. Both Boba Fett and Jabba the Hutt kept a rancor as a rather scary pet. Caf, as you probably know, is the SWU’s coffee. Din (and Maia here) often calls Grogu a womp rat, a pest on Tatooine (proving Din has spent long enough there to pick up the local lingo, and Maia has picked it up from him). A tooka is an SWU cat.

As always, comments/kudos (AO3) and likes/reblogs (Tumblr) will inspire me to produce more things. I don’t have a Kofi because I would rather have your help marketing my stories than take your cash, so if you enjoy my work, please support me with kudos and reblogs. Thanks!

Honestly, I’m not altogether thrilled with this fic. I struggle with shorter (ha!) pieces because, as those of you who have read Be-All And Endor will know, I’m much more comfortable playing the long game and writing things where I can focus on character development, foreshadow future events, reference and call back concepts, and do a heck of a lot of worldbuilding. So to me, this feels like it lacks depth because it’s a very simple and straightforward concept that lacks a full-on conflict/resolution arc, and as a character study it’s nothing that hasn’t been done before. I’ve also been struggling to write something I felt was good enough to publish in the wake of Be-All. I don’t think this passes muster, but in the end, I realised I had to just post something – anything – simply to get past that fear of doing it. So I hope this was interesting enough to at least hold your attention! I suppose I could write a part 3 where they have their date and the smut happens, but to be honest, I have several other smutty fics in the works that have much better setups, so I think I should focus on those. I might come back to this one day, though.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@dindenimchicken @feekedbeat @foomoosworld @jude77 @penvisions

@pigeonmama @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an @titlee78

I tagged those below in part 1 due to interest in my series masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs). Nobody told me off for my audacity, so I’m hoping you’ll enjoy part 2 also…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

[rageprufrock]

Sneak Peak: MLC Fanfic

I have so many chores to do so instead I am on tumblr posting this little snippet instead because adulthood is a SCAM.

Anyway, please have some in-progress modern AU where Jiao Liqiao hits Di Feisheng with a car.

The whole thing starts when Jiao Liqiao hits Di Feisheng with an orange Hummer outside of the Alliance Security headquarters while he's on the phone with Li Lianhua.

***

Six hours later, Li Lianhua is sitting around in Di Feisheng's hospital room dressed like someone's dad's dirty uncle best friend: beat up pajama pants, a shirt he'd grabbed at random hearing the shriek of tires through the phone line, and a pair of Fang Duobing's fucking sky blue Adidas slides he'd stolen as he'd bolted out the door.

"It's not that I want to criticize you, lao-Di," Li Lianhua says, critically, "but I told you to run that woman out of town as soon as humanly possible at least five times."

Di Feisheng, who's been provided pain medication and is angry about it, busies himself with glaring at the ceiling. 

"Now look at you," Li Lianhua goes on, like a bastard, "you've got a hairline fracture in your foot, you've got a broken leg, three cracked ribs, a low grade concussion, and also you're the top four trending tags on Weibo." 

That these are factual statements does not make Li Lianhua's continued, unwanted presence in Di Feisheng's hospital room any less insufferable. 

"Alliance Security CEO accident," Li Lianhua reads off his phone. "Alliance CEO car crash. Alliance CEO crazy girlfriend. Alliance CEO handsome." 

Di Feisheng's head lolls around so he can center a wild-eyed glare at Li Lianhua.

"Why are you here?" he asks through gritted teeth.

Li Lianhua squints at him. "Can you be considered human?" he demands. "There I was, enjoying my Saturday morning like a normal person—"

"You were calling me to complain that our CDN felt 'kind of slow,' like an asshole," Di Feisheng corrects.

"—and then I hear you yelling and the sounds of vehicular violence," Li Lianhua goes on. "Any person with a heart would be concerned."

"Fang Duobing made you come," Di Feisheng says.

"Fang Duobing made me come," Li Lianhua agrees.

"Well I'm not dead, so you can leave now," Di Feisheng mutters.

"'As someone who has also wanted to hit their boss with a car, but never truly had the courage, I respectfully acknowledge Jiao Liqiao as my master and will endeavor to serve her as a faithful student in all things,'" Li Lianhua reads, going back to scrolling through Weibo. "'I never want to know the truth or any details about why she did it. Just that she hit this beautiful mean-faced millionaire with a car is enough. I would die for her.'"  

Di Feisheng goes back to staring at the ceiling and begins to systematically reflect on the wrongs that have led to specific terrible moment. This begins with lingering resentment over college scheduling that had put him in a 9:30 programming basics class with Li Xiangyi and concludes with admitting that perhaps Fang Duobing had been right when he'd said, two years ago, "A'Fei, you can't just tell a woman it's fine if she's in love with you and that you guys can keep working together but that it's none of your business." But at that point, Fang Duobing was still the infant Li Xiangyi was fucking as some kind of weird post mental breakdown enrichment activity, and seemed like a poor source of professional counseling. In the years since, Di Feisheng can admit that while Fang Duobing continues to be an infant Li Xiangyi is fucking as a weird post mental breakdown enrichment activity, he has a sharp and nuanced emotional intelligence—as long as it has nothing to do with his profoundly repulsive attachment to Li Xiangyi. 

"Miss Jiao is going to get some truly staggering letters in jail," Li Lianhua observes with audible admiration in his voice. For not the first and likely not the last time, Di Feisheng swears never to answer another phone call or text message from this bastard again.  

"If you like her so much, you should hire her once she's served her time," he mutters through gritted teeth. The sharp edge of pain is starting to break through the drugs, but he feels clearer, sharper, less like he's trying to hear shouting through the rush of a flowing river. "Is there a reason you're still hanging around here?" 

Li Lianhua slants him a look, beaming with charity. "Now don't get shy, A'Fei—"

"Stop calling me A'Fei," Di Feisheng snaps.

"—I came in a DiDi, so Xiaobao is coming to pick me up," Li Lianhua finishes. "You'll be back to your peace and blessed quiet soon." 

Which is of course the precise moment that little treasure of Li Lianhua's pokes his abominably sunny little face into the doorway of the sickroom and declares, all smiles:

"Okay! I just finished with the nursing jiejies! They’re wrapping up your discharge paperwork and we should be able to take you home with us this afternoon.” 

“What,” Di Feisheng and Li Lianhua say.

[spicyclover]

Summer love

Summary: You’re trying to enjoy your first day off on the beach, but things aren’t going as planned. Between the jealousy of Charles and Pierre...

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

Since the beginning of the afternoon, you have been settling on the beach in Monaco. It was your first day off, and you would enjoy it. Sitting on your beach towel, you enjoyed the sun shining on your skin. 

“Enjoying the sun?”

“Yes, as you can see, Pierre,” You said, taking off my glasses and looking at him.

“Can I join you?”

“Do yourself a favour, Apollo.”

As soon as you finished your sentence, he took off his shirt and lay down by your side. You must take a moment to scrutinize his salient abs in front of the hot summer sun. His golden hair shines bright in the light. You lie on my stomach and put your straw hat on your head. We stay a few minutes in silence before he resumes speaking.

“When are you leaving for the big city?”

“Not right now. I need to take some time for myself.” 

“With Charles…”

“My stories are none of your business, Pierre.”

“Yet we had….”

“I’m willing to be friends with you, but you must change the record, Apollo.”

He nods, closing his eyes. You completed my eyes and tried to enjoy the peace. The sound of the water soothes you, and you begin to doze off slowly. You were near sleep when you felt two hands on my hips. 

“What is…”  

“I’ll put some cream on it so you don’t blush.” 

“But who do you think you are! Get off me, Pierre.”

“No, but…”

“I think she told you to get Gasly out,” Charles replied aggressively as he approached us.

Pierre looks at you intensely before realizing you will not change my mind. Charles grabs your waist and attaches you to his now naked torso. The animosity between the two boys is great, and you feel Charles’s blood boiling with more and more fury. You rotate slightly on yourself. With one hand, you caress his cheek, and with the other, You press his neck so that he kisses me. You put your lips against his and tried to calm him down. You missed his salty lips. 

“I’m going to go in the water and take the sunscreen out. You go with me?” You take him by the hand, so he doesn’t chase Pierre. “He’s not worth it, Char.” 

He looks at you from head to toe. You walk back towards the water, and he finally gives in and follows you.

“What was he doing with you in the first place?”

“Charles, even though I’m not in a relationship with him anymore, that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.”

“I don’t understand….”

“Are you jealous, Mr. Leclerc?” you whisper in his ear. 

“If I answer you enormously, especially in this outfit, what are you going to do, Ms. Leclerc,” he says when you get into my game.

His hands cover your back, touching your skin, which makes you shiver. One of his hands ends up on your ass and grips it, which makes you jump. He puts his lips on my neck, biting me tenderly. You sigh with pleasure and play with his hair, and it goes up to my ear ball, and he plays with it. You serve your grip on his coat by biting your lips so as not to moan. We would have continued if Arthur hadn’t bothered us.

“Hey! Mom wants to see you, Y/n!” he yells from the beach. “And there are rooms for that, Charles.”

You laugh at him, and Charles sighs greatly. Since the beginning of the holidays, they have not had time to find themselves alone. It profoundly annoys Charles, who has only one desire: to take you and make love to you for hours.

“I think my day off has just ended,” You say, sighing in despair, pressing my head against his chest.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, that’s fine. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon,” You answer with a kiss. “Are you coming out or?”

“Uh. I’ll stay a few more seconds.”

You’re laughing as you look towards his bathing suit, where a bump formed during our exchange. 

“You just have to think of me naked in bed, sighing under your caresses….”

“Stop,” he whispers to shut me up. “You’re driving me crazy.”

You smile and break away from him against my heart. You quickly dry out before gathering your things and leaving toward the beach house.

[dballzposting]

ok. ok. i have only seen DB/DBZ/DBS and have not reached GT yet (working on it ......) so mmy understanding of adult goten is from the perspective of somebody who has watched broly second coming on loop and replays the first episode of super like a healthy individual & has seen like 3 screencaps of gt goten. also that one goten side mission from Kakarot for the Play Station Five(5). anywayz. about the threeway you propose in your post. now assuming we live in a beautiful world where akira toriyama is introduced to the concept of polyamory and 1) thinks its banging and 2) accepts homosexuality into his heart of hearts (aka we are no longer operating by feasible canon standards) i do think it is PLAUSIBLE. ebcause. here is da thing. in PREMISE 7 you state Trunks is competition BUT (and again.......maybe GT would contradict this....all i know is my beautiful world where trunks pisses on broly) i think he only views trunks in competition for like...normie things. in Kakarot there's this exchange between the two of them, where Trunks (speaking for the both of them) says smth like, "we're not RIVALS that's LAME. We like competing but we're FRIENDS." (<- he then goes on to dunk on his father because "you're friends with goten's dad, right?? you're not RIVALS are you? that's TOTALLY uncool... you lamer.") and while i acknowledge this is New Canon (DBS-era where trunks's "13yr old on xbox live saying slurs" personality got nerfed a tiny bit) i think it says a lot about how they view competition/rivalry between them. It's like, all fun and games and a drive to be better but it's nothing they're losing sleep over unlike whatever da faq vegeta has going on with goku. this is all to say i don't think goten sees trunks as romantic competition. if anything he probably trusts trunks wouldnt like cheat on his girlfriend or whatever. now idk if goten would have hangups abt a 3-way being bizarre to him or smth but knowing how cra-zay and adventurous that little man is i assume it's something he would TRY at least, like, posing it as a joke like "haha could u imagine..." but its obvious he's like, trying to present it as a valid concept to trunks. the unspoken conclusion of "it could be kinda epic doe" is loud and clear 2 trunks. i think the better question is would palace be cool with this. would she do this. it's trunks briefs of capsule corp so like, if you were a worser person you could be like, hell yeah im fuckin that man if my bf gives me the green light i want tobe able to say that i know mr. trunks briefs biblically. but at the same time thats like, mean. i dont know much abt her but she seems like a sweet gal i think she wouldnt do something just for #bragging rights u kno....but u would know more on that methinks.

by the way you should watch the solar entertainment dub of broly 2 & 3 if you haven't they are life changing.

FASCINATING AND POWERFUL ARGUMENT.

I Didnt Fucking Know That TRunks Said That Shit & I Went and Found it on DA YOUTUBE!!! Timestamped video below but below that I will also attach screenshots of the whole scene but TBH I WATCHED THE WHOLE VIDEO AND IT'S PROFOUNDLY ADORABLE & PERFECT

Trunks said that he wanted to be friendas eith Goten for FOREVER .. He didnt stop at merely commenting on the present, but he had the confidence to project his feelings into the future: He's friends with Goten, he wants to continue being friends with Goten, and he wants it to be for forever.

I mean piece and signerture done right there. Signed sealed & delivered. Closed case. I'm willing to accept this as a total refutation for Premise 7 and what i was getting at in that post in general. Trunks looks at Goten with genuine appreciation when he said that they were friends

Ohhhgm my god and this video is so adorable .. I've said this before but as much as i love madness I also LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE So Much how on dragon ball everyone is depicted as truly happy healthy open free and LOVING EACH OTHER. Trunks and Goten just wanted to spend time with their fathers whom they love so much. They both assumed that their fathers loved each other as much as goten and trunks themselves love each other. They thought that the world was just that beautiful and lively. Also Gotenks in this video is 101% perfect and he is exactly swag and epic as i hoped he would be and it's really remarkable stuff. Great video. Great footage. Great writing

It is true that this is, as you put it: "New Canon (DBS-era where trunks's '13yr old on xbox live saying slurs' personality got nerfed a tiny bit)." But I dont honestly trhink that that's THAT relevant becasue what we mostly saw of Goten & Trunks in DBZ was friendly fun anyway, just with a bit of teeth, and then in DBGT Trunks is totallllyyyy chilled tf OUT and we don't see any acidity from him ever I think. So the fact that he's not saying slurs in DBS is I think okay. (I am actually greatly intrigued by his personality in DBS becasue I believe that it offers a great transition into the eventual DBGT and becasue it offers A LOT of insight on his Nature and his Nurture. Now is not the time.)

OK back to the aspect of the post that is about the throuple with Palace. This here ask offers the perspective that if Trunks sort of entered the relationship, then Goten wouldn't take it as striaght up competeition, but instead it would be sort of like "Ok well you know what You're a good man. I trust you'll treat her well." And in fact perhaps Goten & Trunks AREN'T Sick to Bastard Death ofn each other by now and ARE in fcat FRIENDS FOREVER like Trunks wishes for in this Kakarot for the ps5 footage.

This ask also offers the third propositon that Goten & Trunks may consider the prospect of a threeway involving them and one nice woman to be "kinda epic." No comments on that one

Palace definitely is not a bragging-rights kind of person so her motivations would literally be becasue she loves love and she loves Goten and she loves that he has a best friend and that they love each other and maybe she thinks that trunks is cute becasue hes so polite around her. Or maybe she thinks he looks sad and she wants to do something about it. But she has also been shown to enjoy badboys against her better judgement. Just remembered that. Wonder if we could work that in somehow

I don't member what movies I've seen or haven't seen but I'll keep that in mind chief. It's a beauotufl world ...

END POST

[katagawajr]

10 Characters | 10 Fandoms | 10 Tags!

(tagged by @babeoffrontiers thank you!!! 🫶)

i think other than the number one spot, none of these are in any particular order. but yes let's begin.

Caleb Widogast (Critical Role). undisputed favorite character in any piece of media, he’s my entire world. literally a perfect narrative story, an emotional character exploration of grief and found family and time itself. profoundly sad man but also filled with so much silly sweetness that makes the sadness even MORE painful. he's a friend, he's a lover, he's a pining man, he's of the empire but not a friend to the empire. he's MY boy, he's a magic man, he's trying to be the man his parents believed he could be. i can cry (and have cried) about him for hours on end but i’m not making this list any longer. ("hi caleb... how are you doing today?" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH)

Gale Dekarios (Baldur’s Gate 3). omg another sad wizard? sorry i have a type. wyll also belongs on this list but i’m hopelessly drawn to gale so i have to pick him. mama’s boy? cat dad? big wet eyes, a little suicidal and extremely devoted? i don’t know that i’ve clutched my heart harder than when i saw his act 2 romance scene for the first time. i think it also just pulls at my heartstrings that his relationship with tav is so showing of his kindness regardless of whether or not you romance him. even platonic gale is so ;-;

Ann Takamaki (Persona 5). i fought about putting yusuke or ryuji or even zenkichi but this spot has to go to ann because she's just so. perfect. the first arc of p5 is the BEST hands down and she's literally one of the biggest reasons why. the writers end up ruining her but the way she grows even in that first arc... her confidant scene with the line "i'm just a lonely, scared girl..." BREAKS ME. she's a treasure, she's strong and kind and wants to be a light for others while not giving up on the things that make her 'girly.' and her love for ryuji as best friends is one of my favorite dynamics ever.

Artemis (Hades). i love artemis in general, i grew an attachment during my greek mythology kid phase and never let go so i'm obsessed with every iteration of her in media. but artemis in hades has my favorite visual design in the game combined with her quiet sweetness :') and her willingness to have a family bond with zagreus because she's also an outcast who's overwhelmed by her other family members. and then to be a total badass of a goddess, ugh love her.

Katagawa Jr. (Borderlands). okay this one is funny because i honestly love katagawa as an OC more than canon... like canon treated him pretty badly and if it was based on that alone then august tftbl would be in this spot. but the POTENTIAL... ohhh the potential... youngest son born into the highest echelon of one of the most powerful companies in the galaxy, but to CEO parents who see them only as property?? and puts barcodes on the back of their necks?? and katagawa jr being the desperately lonely, attention-seeking son? don't get me started on him and naoko... genuinely my OC now. i took him from canon.

Julian Devorak (The Arcana). this one always embarrasses me to talk about because it's like a romance visual novel game. so let's make it quick. but julian is unironically such a good character, i'm a sucker for the way he loves his little sister more than anything in the world. also for being a silly pirate plague doctor who wants to help people, blames himself for a past he can't even remember, and trips over his own heels being so madly in love. the outfit and eyepatch too, 10/10.

Crona Gorgon (Soul Eater). the definition of 'nonbinary baby' LMAO- but seriously, i instantly fell in love with their design when i first watched. one of the best ever, including ragnarok's design being a part of them. being so powerful but so pained, just such a sad soul and it's so interesting to watch them on screen. i love a character that seems silly and awkward and then also can turn very scary/cool. brief shoutout to stein though, i almost put him on here instead because his design and fighting style are just peak >>

Mad Maggie (Apex Legends). my first ever apex love was horizon, but idk when maggie came out i just fell in love with her personality? she's SO funny to me. i also love her and fuse's backstory, and i think her tough attitude but capability of being kinda sweet as well is cute (although i genuinely just adore her as a mean character too. let women be meaner. she's funny and hot about it). her kit is also very fun even though i'm bad with it, i love riot drilling halfway across the map when i play her. her voice is 10/10 and even her theme music is banger.

Undyne (Undertale). undertale still has one of the greatest narratives in all of gaming history and i will die happily on that hill. sorry. undyne was always my girl, her being the badass knight (that everyone assumes is some scary guy), her theme music is still one of THE best video game songs ever. her design is amazing, finding out that she's papyrus's friend and that she's in love with alphys, her backstory with asgore. all amazing character beats. and that's not even mentioning the genocide run... "for the sake of the whole world... I, UNDYNE, WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN." ugh.

Prince Canute (Vinland Saga). gah i haven't even watched season 2 yet because i'm terribly behind. BUT. oh my god, i think canute's monologue in the snow in season 1 actually fundamentally changed my brain???? and the way that i think??? like i felt something crack within me. i actually gave a talk about that exact scene in an animation class i had once. anyways i loved watching him on screen and watching him change... watching him be so sad... not to mention his design is just very very pretty. can't wait to see my best friend canute in s2 i'm sure nothing bad will happen right.

tagging: @magnuficentwo @aliensmoothie and anyone else who wants to do it if you feel like it, no obligation :) i'm bad at the tagging part of tag games sorry!

[echo-of-sounds]

daddy dom pt.2

Headcanons on the types of Daddy Dom Toshinori, Hizashi, and Fatgum are. 

All three of these men are underappreciated. 

Warnings: Daddy Dom relationship, (the rest is only mentioned, there’s no real detail) punishments, slapping, spanking (with and without a paddle), anal play, ball gags, handcuffs, and rough sex

Yagi Toshinori

Toshinori’s been exposed to dominant play in sex, but it’s never captured his interest. Sex to him is sensitive, sensual, and intimate. The harsher side, slapping, choking, and anything close to rough, he is more than unenthusiastic towards. He can’t find pleasure in pain, even if the pain gives you pleasure. It’s caused so much heartache in his life, and he truly can’t bring himself to incorporate it during a time that’s supposed to be passionate and loving.

However, he isn’t opposed to being a Daddy. When you bring it up, he reads about and talks to you about it in detail before making a decision. He doesn’t mind being dominant. In fact, he quite enjoys being your protector, someone who you can confide in, who you can snuggle up against, sheltered in his arms while he pets and kneads your body. He’s your number one supporter and shields you from the stress of the world.

Toshi is the sweetest Daddy. You’re his sweetie, his sweetheart, and his sweet girl. Whatever catches your eye, he keeps in mind to buy for a present because he overindulges your every whim. He has money. He has the necessities. He rarely buys himself expensive, lavish things, which means he has plenty of money to spoil you with: books and movies you’re interested in, new clothing and jewelry, that adorable stuffed animal you reluctantly walked past, board, card, and video games, lotion, blankets, etc… 

He dislikes punishment and so very rarely uses it. It’s at most a light spanking to get your attention. Daddy prefers positive reinforcement and talking to you about your misbehavior. That way, you can understand who important listening is, especially when it comes to his rules. You shouldn’t eat too many cookies because it’ll upset your stomach. You shouldn’t leave clothes and books strewn across the floor because someone could slip and fall. You shouldn’t cum before he permits because he is your Daddy and listening to him is important. The second you apologize, he’s back to caressing and kissing you.

You should always try to wear Daddy’s favorite colors. It gets you more cuddles and compliments. Anything in lilac, baby pink, and soft cream draws his hands towards you like a magnet. Panties with cute, little bows are a cherry on top. Wear a cream dress at home. Your lavender panties can be seen through the thin material. From across the room, you can feel his eyes. He’ll eventually tell you to come and sit on his lap. He massages your sides as you rest on his shoulder. If you want, start grinding. Your gradually wetting underwear informs him of your arousal. Don’t worry, he’ll take care of it for you.

For bedtime, he has a soft spot for cock warming. He absolutely loves falling asleep when you’re connected. He’ll lay down. You just have to straddle him and slip him inside. Don’t move. Simply lay on his chest, kissing his collarbones and neck, drowsily mumbling how and why you love him. His hums of love warm your body. His breath warms your skin. As you start to drift off, his arms cushion you safe and sound- your own little safe haven. 

Soft sex is the norm. Daddy’s respectful, attentive, devoted, and eager to feel the heat of your body. Each easy thrust pushes deep, stretching you to fit him perfectly. Don’t hide your face or moans. They urge his hips to forage for more. When you’re fussing because you’re right there, he speeds up, kissing you profoundly, fiercely, whispering in his amorous, baritone voice, “It’s okay, Sweetie. Let yourself cum. Daddy’s right here. Daddy’s right here.”

Because of Toshi’s physical health, he isn’t able to have sex as frequently as the other guys. But he still pampers you plenty. He’ll buy you a pink vibrator to circle your clit with. You can ride his bare thigh, spreading your wetness over him as he guides your hips. He’ll watch you hump a pillow and cry out for your Daddy. He’ll finger you till you’re satisfied. He just wishes you to be pleased however, and whenever you need it. 

Rough sex isn’t exactly rough sex. But you do get to ride Daddy however you want. You can bounce excitedly or grind hastily or buck in sheer, vulgar heat. His compliments mix into groans the more you ride. He sucks your breasts. He spanks your ass. He grips your thighs until his nails nearly cut skin. It’s the time for you to have your fun and make Daddy feel pleasured like he always does for you.

Yamada Hizashi

Straightaway, Hizashi knew dominance was something he wanted. He likes leading and commanding someone under him, probing, inspecting, and licking every part of them. When you start a relationship, he opens up to you, wanting to know what you do and don’t like, and his interests are shared back.

You’re his one and only baby girl. No one else gets that name but you. You’re his teddy bear, snuggling you at bedtime. He shows you new places, feeds you new foods, and gives you new experiences you’ve never had before. Your joy and delight is the epitome of beauty. He strives to see it in your eyes and smile as much as possible.

On top of being his baby, you’re also his little experiment. He does everything to you, in whatever way he wants: fingering your ass, slowly spreading you wider and wider, praising your patience; having you ride two dildos at once as he watches your breasts and expressions; forcing you to stand still with a vibrator deep within you, unable to cum or whine or even move until he’s completely and utterly satisfied. No matter what it is, he just likes having fun and thinking of new ways to make you squirm.

When he’s out and about, go onto his laptop and search for whatever you want. Do those panties look incredibly comfortable? Add it to his cart. Is that necklace calling your name? Add it to his cart. Is that cute glass wand something you want to play with? Add it to his cart. He’ll buy them all. And the second they arrive, you better use them. Wear only the panties and necklace. Lick and rub yourself with the dildo. Show him just how much you enjoy the presents.

One thing you can do to help your Daddy relax is to let him suck your breasts. Hizashi hides his stress well. When he’s abnormally snugly, burrowing his head into your chest, hibernating under the blankets with you, it’s stress. Take off your shirt, and he’ll attach to your nipple. It’s not sexual. Something to nurse on is soothing for him. Daddies need comfort too!

Hizashi is super playful when he’s in his Daddy mode (not that different from his usual self, but he’s more hyperfocused on you). Keep in mind that that doesn’t mean he won’t discipline you after any mischief. If you don’t follow the list of rules on the fridge, fun Daddy goes away and it’s punishment time. His go-tos are timeouts, no phone, no Tv, early bedtime and, as much as it pains him, no cuddling.

When you’re being really disobedient, his voice lowers, grating his throat, vibrating his chest. It’s definitely provoking. His spankings even more so. As he stuffs you full of anal beads, you begin to think it isn’t even a punishment. But then he blindfolds and ties you up. You’re left all alone in the bedroom, in the cold air, can’t see, can’t move, only able to feel the toys gorged deep inside you for hours. If you fuss, he comes and puts a ball gag in your mouth. It’s best to wait it out until he’s convinced you’ve been appropriately disciplined.

Punishments often transition into rough, fast, dominating sex. You’re still bound and gagged and stuffed as his thrusts start. Let him hear your helpless whimpers. Let him listen to your drenched, lewd sex every time he sinks deep. He spreads you wide open and fondles you however he wants. Don’t be a bad girl. Grant him ownership of your body. It frequently ends with him cumming in your ass and plugging it with a butt plug. Keep it inside because the punishment isn’t over.

While he does enjoy the rough and tough, Daddy also values slowing down, kissing your body, and gifting you with plenty of loyal, loving rapture. You can choose the position: do you want to ride him as he kisses you? Or do you want Daddy to draw out his time on top of you, thrusting deep and intensely, giving you all the pleasure in the world? Either way, he makes do, nuzzling your neck, squeezing your thighs, praising his baby girl for everything she is.

Taishiro Toyomitsu

Taishiro is naturally so playful and so willing to experiment. The way he unconsciously praises his partner is a hint to his inner Daddy just waiting to come out. He sighs, ‘that’s a good girl’ as you blow him. He groans, ‘good job, baby’ as you cum. He grunts, ‘you’re taking me perfectly’ as he releases, thick and heavy, inside you. All you have to do is whimper for your Daddy and from then on out, that’s exactly who he is.

Baby, baby girl, little girl, good girl, Daddy uses them all. You’re his major weakness. He’s your biggest cheerleader, your safest space, your confidant, the one you can run to when you’re upset, overwhelmed, excited, and scared. He never wants you to feel alone. It’s a Daddy’s responsibility to ensure his little girl feels respected and heard, and he always assures you’re loved.

Daddy loves bathing you. He sits beside the tub and washes your back. He’ll coo loving praises as he cleans your body thoroughly. The plush washcloth and soothing soap brushes feather-light across your shoulders, down your back, and between your legs, making sure you’re neat (and cute) as a button. After you’re wrapped in a huge, fluffy towel and carried to bed where you’re slowly patted dry. Then he bundles you to his chest for sleep.

Compliments your ‘pretty pussy’ all the time. It’s Daddy’s and it’s beautiful. When he’s watching TV and the mood strikes, he slowly lays you down, lifts your dress, takes off your panties, and fingers and stretches and strokes you to his heart’s content. But he won’t let you orgasm. And you can’t complain or touch yourself. You can only lay open for his pleasure. He delights in your tongue sticking out, searching for something to suck on, and your glazed-over eyes silently begging for him to give you so much more.

Tai is definitely the type of Daddy who likes to be comforted now and then. He tries to hide his insecurities so you don’t worry. But he deserves the care and attention he’s always showing you. When he’s fidgeting with his clothes, ask him for some skin-to-skin cuddling. Kiss his stretch marks. Sigh or sing for him. Just woo his beautiful, handsome heart.

Cock warming is one of his favorites. It can be a punishment when you’re back talking or not listening. He makes you sit there for hours, your wet, swollen lips around his cock as you squirm, trying not to touch yourself. Then when he finally finishes, that’s it. You don’t get any gratification for misbehaving. It pleases the dom part of Daddy Dom. He also uses it whenever he misses you and your body. You sit on him and relax against his tummy, softly kissing, gently stroking him as both your arousals drip and mix together.

Rough sex means you’re going to get controlled. Cute, pink nipple clamps go on, handcuffs restrain your wrists behind your back, and a paddle will spank your ass raw. The paddle has little hearts in it, imprinting the designs onto your sore skin. Every thrust jerks your body, bearing his weight brutally into you. Every clit slap arches your back, harsher and higher. Every little sound you make will be praised, earning you more and more spankings. As you cum, the thrusts keep on coming, fully intent on making you orgasm until the sheets are soaked.

But when you finally collapse, Daddy tenderly releases your hands, gently lifts you, then carries you off for a warm bubble bath. If you ask, he’ll most certainly join. Arms will cradle you perfectly to his chest. Lips kiss all over your shoulders and chest, cherishing your scars, idolizing blemishes, worshiping every inch. He wants you to know and feel how much he treasures you, especially after particularly rough sex.

To start soft sex, Daddy expects you to sit on his face. Grind as his tongue tastes all of you. You have to cum on his face at least once before proceeding. That’s his one rule during lovemaking. Other than that, you can ask for anything, and he’ll oblige. Holding you close, he walks you through every orgasm, asking, ‘how much do you love Daddy?’ With how highly he coddles and comforts you, it’s indescribable. 

[silviakundera]

Story of Yanxi Palace rewatch notes, ep 39-40

The cruel death of my perfect ot3 😭😭😭😭 truly too beautiful to be allowed to exist 😭😭

We get so many tender Yingluo and Empress moments, and everything seems so hopeful, then blam! blam! blam!

The grieving Empress still clutching her baby and with Yingluo gone it is the Emperor who has to do what no one can and reach her, let her rage and try to rest her back to the living world. Magnificant scene, as she finally lets loose at him, all of her greviances she's been holding inside. They do love each other, so much, but the imperial family politics don't care about true attachments and affection.

Really like the scenes where the Emperor has to supress his personal desires, his own despair, to govern and be a responsible monarch. The show consistently shows how bad at relationships he is, and how biased and reactionary he can be, but in the end he has his priorities in order when it comes to the big picture. The viewer and Yingluo will not always like him, but we reluctantly respect him.

Th Empress thinking of Yingluo in her final moments.

THAT SCENE when Yingluo returns to the palace and she and the Emperor just dig knives into each other in. I bet they barely even register the other people in the room. This is THEIR GRIEF, they are her 2 closest people, the people she kept in her heart. This is their resentment, their anguish. Their unreasoning sorrow. They both blame and hate her, a little, for leaving them like this. And in her absence they will inevitably turn this hate & blame onto each other.

It should be ludricrous that a servant and the freakin Emperor are arguing over the corpse of his wife, and he keeps responding to her -- that's the most shocking part and the most meaningful to me. He will not walk away while she hasn't had her say. You can see as he closes his eyes and takes her words in, as she brings him to tears - he wants to be blamed, he of course already blames himself. And she looks so freakin SAD as she says these things to him. Not vicious and smug, just profoundly sad that being part of the imperial family crushed the spirit of a woman that they both loved so much. And, I'd argue, profoundly sad to be saying these hurtful things to him. Like it hurts her to be hurting him like this, but she can't stop herself. Some of things she says, like accusing him of being heartless, I don't think she truly believes at all. She's striking out at him and at herself, stab stab stab. She's feeling, not thinking.

I'd argue that this is actually Yingluo being suicidal. She wants to die with the empress, as a sort of penance for leaving her unprotected. She knows the penalty for how she is behaving right now. And she wants it. She doesn't stop til she gets it. She's not rationale in this episode, she's completely emotionally overwhelmed.

With tear streaks on his face, the Emperor says, Grant her suicide and have her buried with Her Majesty. And Yingluo smiles so tenderly, so horribly. Looks so softly at the covered body, as if to say I'll be with you soon. He ignores all pleas and says he's doing this because she is the most favored. They're both like, RIGHT. RIGHT. SHE WOULDN'T HAVE WANTED THIS. TOO BAD SHE'S DEAD NOW SO SHE DOESN'T GET AN OPINION.

Such an enormous mess and still, and still!! in this scene you feel like sometimes no one in the world understands Yingluo and The Emperor as well as they understand each other.

And right now, the Emperor can't handle that. I think he ultimately sends her into palace exile not only to honor the intent of his wife's final wish, but to protect himself from that knowledge, those knowing eyes, that insightful judgment (Why didn't he actually give her FREEDOM? a. he's in repressed love w her, duh and b. he wants to punish her and himself for failing their empress and c. this is like safe, incredibly boring servant retirement)

allllso can u believe the empress left final words to the emperor all about their mutual gremlin servant gf? LMAO Not I'll love u for eternity, let's be married in the next life, but: I'm super concerned about Yingluo, palace life sucks, please take care of our girl for me xoxo

[jeongvision]

🗣 TEACHER!AU WITH JOHNNY

PART TWO! LET’S GET IT!

pairing. history teacher! seo johnny ✗ english teacher! fem! reader (ft. english teacher! mark lee)

genre. fluff, slight humor, high school teacher au, non idol au

warnings. some cursing and super soft hours after this huhu <3 and not proofread but we can discuss that later

author’s note. this is an continuation to this blurb! this could be read as a standalone but regardless i hope this brought a smile to your face bc it certainly did for me <3

You should’ve seen it coming. Damn it, it was right in front of you all along, so why didn’t you see it in the first place?

You and your students have been grinding nonstop for the past couple weeks to prep them for the AP English IV exam. There was a time where you requested two days off from work for emergency purposes (thankfully it was nothing too major) leaving you to ask your coworker- Mark, another teacher in your department -to help fill in your students on materials needed for the exam.

Everything was perfectly fine when you came back, your coworker going beyond your expectations in taking care of your students. However, one thing you failed to take notice of is the recent changes the college board made in their AP exams, including the course you teach. After reviewing some of the revisions they made, you felt your heart drop.

They’ve added three additional sections to the exam, meaning an additional two weeks is needed to cover the materials for your students to grasp some sort of mastery on those concepts.

You have four weeks left until the exam, and you’re already compacted those remaining weeks with other necessary materials for the exam.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured under your breath.

Running your hand through your hair, you let out a tired sigh. It’s already bad enough that you have to work overtime in making revisions to your lesson plans. However, it’s worse to see the crestfallen looks on your students’ faces when you dropped the news on them. They’re already tired enough from dealing with other classes and extracurricular activities. On top of that, you know most of them are stressing about their acceptance letters from their colleges.

You dropped the pen in your hand and rubbed both of your eyelids. Relax, y/n you told yourself. Don’t worry, you can do this. You heard the door behind you open, meaning someone walked inside the teacher’s lounge.

“Hey, y/n. What’s up- Woah, woah, WOAH! What do we have here?” the person exclaimed. You let out a chortle. You could distinctively point that voice out from anywhere, and you’re sure as hell that the state of your workspace is nothing short of hell. Taking your hands away from your face, you crossed your arms and leaned back a little in your seat to look up at the latter.

“Well, hello to you too, Mark,” you chuckled. You both gave each a fist bump before he sits down in the empty chair beside you.

“What the hell happened here?” He grabs some of the documents splayed out before you, eyes scanning through the materials that you’ve scribbled on in the past hour. “Wait, what? They added new things to the AP exam?”

You sighed and nodded dejectedly. “Yep. And somehow, I gotta squeeze all those materials into my lesson plans before they take it next month.” You rested your arms on the table and rested your head on top of them. “At this point, I just want to light myself on fire and call it a day.”

Mark lets out a cackle besides you, prompting you to smile. You’ll never mention it to him, but his laughs and smiles are always infectious. It’s what makes him so well-known and loved in the English department in the first place, both faculties and students.

“Please don’t do that. We love you too much to let you do that to yourself,” he responded.

Sitting back up in your seat, you take a glance at the clock. Just four minutes before the section ends and you have to go back to teaching your classes again. You heard your coworker clear his throat, bringing you to face him.

“Do you need help with any of this?” he offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s fine, Mark. I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to bother you with my workload.”

“No, really. It’s fine, y/n. I only teach honors and they’re all pretty ahead in their assignments, so I have some free time if you’d like.”

Just like that, you swear you could see a halo shining above his figure, your world much brighter and clearer than it was this morning. “Oh my god, yes please.” You shifted through your papers, searching the remnants of the piles before handing it over to him. “Can you please go through these and grade them for me? Here are the answer keys for them.” After debriefing him for that stack of papers, you gave him another one. “And for these, can you make some copies for me? I need them tonight so I can plan for tomorrow’s class.”

He listened attentively to your commands, taking a mental note and nodding each instruction given to him. “Okay, got it, y/n. I’ll get these done and hand them over by the end of the day.”

You’re gawking at him, surprised that your coworker is willing to lend you a helping hand. You could honestly cry out tears of joy right now, but timing refuses to let you do so as the bell rings, marking the end of a period. You both stood up in your seats and grabbed the papers on the table into a neat pile. You let out a content sigh as you both walked out the teacher’s lounge.

“Thank you so much, Mark. You’re the best,” you exhaled. Outside your classroom, you already see some students entering inside as you left it unlocked, free for them or your coworkers to enter as they pleased. You both stood next to its entrance before he shrugs his shoulders at you.

“Hey, I mean it’s what I do best, right? Being the best.”

You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove, earning a laugh from him. Saying goodbyes to one another, you walked inside your classroom. You nodded to the students present. “Afternoon, class,” you greeted.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/n!”

“Miss Y/n, there’s a bouquet of flowers on your desk,” one of your students called out. You raised an eyebrow. Flowers? Looking over to your desk, your student was certainly not lying and neither are your eyes. Perched in the middle of your desk lies a vase filled with varying colors of tulips. Petals are in full bloom and the stems are clipped uniformly. You walked over and saw a notecard attached to one of the flowers.

“Who is it from, Miss Y/n?”

“Yeah! Who got you flowers?”

You looked up and realized more of your students are present, capacity almost at its max. Class was starting soon so more and more are rushing in to see the surprise gift settled on your desk.

“Is it Mr. Kim in the science department? I saw you two walking together in the hallways last week.”

That assumption piqued your interest. “Wait, Mr. Kim? The physics teacher?” you asked. The student, Krystal, nodded, causing you to huff incredulously. “Krystal, please. We’re merely just friends.”

Another student chimes in. “Friends don’t lock arms with each other at work.”

“Jongin, please. Your last girlfriend only stayed with you for a month and she started dating an upperclassman a week later.”

“Hey—”

“Guys, calm down,” you interjected. “As much as I love you crazy bunch, I am still your teacher. Therefore, what occurs in my personal life stays private, and how much I am willing to share with you all lies in my discretion.” But unbeknownst to you, one of your students sneaks behind you to get a glance of the card, discreetly reading the contents:

‘The best deserves nothing less than the best.

Yours truly.’

The student, Luna, almost lets out a squeal. “Guys! Guys!” You jumped in shock, startled by her sudden presence and her high-pitched voice. “I think it’s Mr. Lee! The other English teacher!”

All attention is now on her, excitement filled in the air.

“Mr. Lee? The one that teaches honors?”

“The one with boba eyes?”

“The one that laughs at everything?”

Luna nods to each question, visibly thrilled with the subtle jump in her steps as she walked towards her classmates. “Yes! I heard Miss y/n calling him the best earlier and Mr. Lee joked about being the best! And in the card, it said ‘the best deserves nothing less than the best’.” The bell rang, marking the beginning of the period, but that didn’t stop your students from chattering with happiness, faces completely wiped from fatigue and stress of the upcoming exams. Some students entered your classroom late to the discussion, prompting other students to fill them in only to also be electrified by the ‘news’.

You run a hand through your hair again and sighed. Not this again, you thought to yourself. But just before you could jump in to stop all this chaos, you heard someone knock on your open door, diverting your attention and your class’ to the intruder.

“Well, good afternoon, class,” the person chuckled. “Why’s it so boisterous here? Did I miss a party or something?”

Of course, what better person to appear now of all times? It was none other than the infamous history teacher, Johnny Seo. You rolled your eyes before laughing. Coincidence, my ass.

“Mr. Seo! Someone gave Miss Y/n a bouquet of tulips! She has a secret admirer!” Luna stated.

He raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Oh, does she now?” He looks back at you with a grin. “Did Miss Y/n find out who this secret admirer is?”

“We think it’s Mr. Lee from honors English.”

“And what makes you think so?”

“Because we heard her call him the best earlier before class started, and the notecard called her the best.”

“Coincidence? I think not,” Jongin nodded.

All of the students followed along in unison, profoundly proud of their assumptions that left you shaking your head in disbelief. Surely, you had a smile on your face, but it’s surprising to know how your students are able to make such large assumptions based on groundless evidence. You sat down in your chair and turned on your computer, getting your lesson plan ready for the period as your students entertained themselves with Mr. Seo.

Johnny takes it all in, nodding to all of them before walking up behind your desk. “Well, I think it’s safe to say that you don’t pester too much to Miss y/n about it. You know how much she likes to keep her life private.” While you were browsing through your saved files and pulling up powerpoints, you felt the latter tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Right, Mrs. Seo?”

And just like that, your hands stilled. Wait, did he just—

“Hold up..”

“What?”

“Did you just—”

“Mrs. Seo?”

“Huh?”

You squeezed your eyelids shut. Oh my god, here we go again—

“YOU GUYS ARE MARRIED??”

jeongvision’s milestone event!

[ageof9thhouse]

Signs in the Seventh House

The house of “the other” is fittingly the domain of the sign of harmony - Libra. Libra is ruled by the planet Venus. Venus’s Greek deity is famously Aphrodite, the goddess of union and beauty. Aphrodite is born off the coast of Cythera from the foam produced by the Ancient God, Uranus's genitals. So there was no sexual intercourse making her existance be a little more on the superficial side. She was so beautiful that Zeus was afraid she’d cause conflict between the gods (which she did anyway) so he married her off to the ugliest but the most unproblematic God Hephaestus. We can see that the theme of “opposites” came into play right from the start. Despite this, she was unfaithful to him and had many lovers. The most famous one of her affairs being with the God of war Ares (Mars/Aries), her exact opposite. Another famous story is the “Venus and Adonis” in which Aphrodite is attracted to a young hunter who has no interest in love. Aphrodite, being used to be the one who is pursued is taking on the role of “the other” and turns into this aggressive seducer. She loses her own self identity in the act of pursuing someone who she sees as her equal. At one point, she even tries to dress like Artemis so that Adonis would think she is a huntress like him… So, this is the house of what you think of other people you encounter initially. The part of you that you want to avoid so instead you see it in other people. You are bound to encounter what you refuse to identify with. More than intimacy, this is a union of the minds the ruler of the house Libra being an air sign. Interacting with other people gives us more clues about who we are than who they are. There can be immediate attraction or repulsion, depending on what kind of a relationship the person has with THEMSELVES.

♈︎Aries / Mars in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to take other people’s actions too personally. They might feel like the whole world is out to get them but that is not the case. One-on-one relationships build the person’s identity. They seek a partner who is fiery and a go-getter. Having a partner makes them feel sure of who they are. They may expect their partners to act or decide for them. People who’s got this aspect put harmony and balance in a relationship first. They expect honesty in relationships and they are very direct people themselves. They also jump into relationships way too quickly and end them abruptly. Even when putting balance first there is a sense of selfishness from time to time. They can expect much more in a relationship than they give. They might view themselves as faultless and be quick to blame the other party. Relationships for these people are always heated but also somehow light-hearted.   

♉︎Taurus / Venus (Day Chart) in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to value other people more than they deserve. At first, they are slow to trust people but once their trust is gained they dedicate their whole life to “the other”. One-on-one relationships have to be forever in the minds of these people. They seek a partner with who they are comfortable around. Someone who is trustworthy and stable and of course drop-dead-gorgeous.These people are not looking for a snack, they are looking for a whole meal. It is also common for those with this position to believe that money can buy them, love. Co-dependency patterns must be watched out for. They might become too attached to people and when they have to let go, they simply don’t want to. They view the people they love as their property almost. In a relationship, they think of themselves as the other party’s whole world. Relationships for these people have got to be based on true love and they have to be stable.    

♊︎Gemini / Mercury in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to be conflicted when it comes to dealing with other people. And they often try to be in multiple relationships at once since they really do think they can be in love with more than one person at the same time. One-on-one relationships can actually make them feel nervous because they have so much to say and share - so, even if they are not nervous they sure do come across as if they are because of the hectic energy. They seek a partner who is intelligent (but not more than them) and someone who keeps them on their toes at all times. They like the idea of teaching their partner something about life, so in all relationships, they come across as bossy or know-it-alls. The attraction for them is someone who experiences the chart owner as a teacher through life – they want someone who looks up to them. Relationships for these people have got to make sense. There is a tendency for these people to listen to their minds than their hearts when it comes to love. They always feel like they have to make a choice between options and it is common for them to change their minds often. 

♋︎Cancer / Moon in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to allow other people to affect themselves on a very emotional level. These people do shy away from one-on-one interactions because when they do, they tend to fall for people way too easily. Even the smallest act of care can win these people over who think of themselves to usually have a cold-exterior. They might seek a partner who reminds them of their mothers. A partner who is nurturing and perhaps older than them. They expect to be taken care of by their partners and be loved unconditionally. The partner in their lives has a lot of impact on their moods and overall sense of security. Co-dependency patterns must be watched out for. These people can easily be insecure when they do not feel like the person in front of them do not actually care for them. The unconditional love theme is highlighted here because if they do not feel like that, they might think that other people despise them. Two extreme cases...  Relationships for these people have got to be gentle and sincere. 

♌︎Leo / Sun in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to have a more naive attitude towards other people. These people usually seek out people who draw attention to themselves - someone who is confident enough to let their inner-child shine. They might also be more interested in people who remind them of something from their childhood. They like to interact with people since being social sparks their creative fires. They might act childish around people they especially fancy. Leo tends to want to dominate. In this case, the person with this placement might want to take control of the other’s personal choices or vice versa. Being in a relationship will boost the ego of these individuals and they just adopt a more positive point of view overall. They really like the idea of people helping each other to discover who they are in a lighthearted manner. Relationships for these people are like out of a movie. Very romantic at heart but often naive when it comes to love. 

♍︎Virgo / Ceres in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to be overly analytical of other people’s actions. These people may be very judgmental of their partners, especially when they don’t meet their expectations, which are pretty high. It is important for these people to remember to do their parts in one-on-one relationships, not just expecting their partners to do all the work. These people are attracted to people who seem to be put together. Interactions with others stress these people out since they are constantly up in their minds about how they come across especially when they fancy someone. In any partnership that a Virgo might form, it cannot be emphasized too much that there must not be a superficial partnership. These people want to dig deep down and knows every tiny thing about other people they encounter. Being in a relationship helps them to get their lives in order. For these people, relationships are based on people going out of their way to help each other.

♎︎Libra / Venus (Night Chart) in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to see other people as a threat to one’s own identity. There is an innate desire to harmonize with others but this desire can turn on them and lead them to do the exact opposite of this... to rebel. Libra is in its natural house here. However, these people may often forget that they have a role in the relationship that is other than receiving. They may perceive the relationship to be all about them and what the partner does to support and balance them while they maintain complete freedom to go off and do their own thing. Even a slight imbalance in the partnership may cause these people to give up on the relationship and go into another one. These people are attracted to good looking and peaceful people. Interactions with others often have a flirtatious vibe. They tend to think people fall in love with them easily when they also get easily attracted to people. Being in a relationship allows them to be in a more peaceful and comfortable mood. 

♏︎Scorpio / Pluto in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to be too intimate with other people from the get-go. Relationships are bound to be deep, intense, powerful, and profoundly intimate. They are all-in when they are in love with someone, sometimes to the point of obsession. With every partner who comes into their lives, they go through a deep transformation. Ending a relationship may feel like the end of the world until they construct another world with someone else. They may find that they attract partners that have depths of intimacy which can get scary sometimes. They are also very possessive over the ones they fancy to the point of losing themselves in the agony of jealousy. In their interactions with other people, they like to bring up the most hidden parts about themselves just to test what they would think about it. They are very attracted to people who are more on the mysterious side and who scream sexual energy. They like to dive deep into things they do not understand. A complicated personality is their ideal partner which can turn toxic real quick. They often confuse lust with love and form deep connections with people they should avoid.  

♐︎Sagittarius / Jupiter in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to try to out-do other people right from the start. They are usually attracted to people who give off the vibe that they do not have a care in the world. Even though they are very easy to form relationships they are mostly attracted to those who are “out of their league” or who play hard to get. They view relationships as a way to prove themselves to themselves... They learn a lot through partnerships since mind-expanding conversations is a way of flirting. Being in a relationship puts them in a good mood but they prefer to keep the emotional aspect of things light. They love to explore and be adventurous…and they love it, even more, when they have a partner on their side to experience this journey. Interacting with other people gives them very high dosages of energy. They enjoy studying other people’s motives and giving them advice about their lives even if it is none of their business. 

♑︎Capricorn / Saturn in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to feel undeserving of the person in front of you’s attention. Interacting with other people causes great anxiety which makes these people come across awkward. But when they work on themselves and push themselves out of their comfort zones they are masters at bonding with people. When they learn their Saturn lessons they are great at dealing with people and usually influence them a lot. These people tend to be attracted to those who remind them of their father or a dominant parent figure. They find ambition to be highly attractive. They are also very careful with who they pick as a partner. If they jump into a relationship too quickly it can cause great distress. Taking their time in partnerships is important for these people. A relationship should be built on solid ground - a tower moment is something hard for them to get over. When they are in a relationship they feel like they have a purpose (which should not be necessary). They take relationships very seriously. 

♒︎Aquarius / Uranus in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to try to play it cool and look unbothered when encountering people. These people tend to fall in love with people who are aloof and interesting. There is also this theme of falling for friends or friend-zoning people once they learn that they like them back. Yes. They usually love the game more than the player - meaning the thrill of the chase is what gets them going in romance. When interacting with other people they come across very friendly and they also view everybody as their friend, so when they are hurt by someone who is just an acquaintance it feels like a betrayal from a close friend. A relationship for them should be based on a very close friendship and once they are in love with someone that person becomes their whole World, and they expect the same in return. When they are in a relationship, they embrace their weird sides and be more bold about expressing themselves with someone who has accepted them as who they are on their side. 

♓︎Pisces / Neptune in the 7th House:

There is a tendency to lose oneself in other people’s ideals. The boundaries are very blurred between the individual and other people. They are huge people-pleasers and want to meet up to other people’s expectations. The good side is they are very capable of overcoming obstacles - the downside is they only do it when someone else asks for it. They are attracted to people who move them in a spiritual way. They like the idea of having a soul-mate. There is magic to this position and the greatest potential for a fairytale ending is hidden here, if only there is enough faith and devotion to reach this destination coming from both sides. These people dedicate their lives to others and lose their selves. Being in a relationship makes them feel like they are living in a dream, they have to watch out for the warning signs though since the dream can turn into a nightmare and they would only realize it after they wake up from it - if they ever can. 

(Art: “Venus and Adonis” by Charles-Joseph Natoire)

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Instant Karma

Another fic. A female Yuu, the same as my previous ones, cannot keep her hands to herself, and pays dearly. Told in the second person. Please let me know if you liked it, I thrive with compliments.

Content warnings: sexual harassment, neck trauma, misunderstandings, and getting wildly, wildly horny at the end.

~*~*~*~

"Sorry this is taking so long."

"Take all the time you need, babe."

Idia only paused a moment before going back to work. Something or other had blown a wire under his desk, and he'd been under there fiddling with the electronics for about as long as you'd been there. You hadn't blinked in five minutes, and weren't planning to any time soon. Today, fate had been kind to you, and presented an arresting visual tableau.

"Why'd this have to happen when the new chapter came out? I wanted to show you-" He yelped at something falling, and continued, grumbling too low to make out.

"Hey, I can wait. Keep on keeping on." You'd pulled up a chair just behind him, your head balanced on one hand, keeping your jaw up.

At least Grimm wasn't here. He wouldn't be able to shut up about how long you'd been staring at Idia's ass.

It certainly wasn't perfect. It was as bony as the rest of him, and you'd probably go snowblind at the sight of it uncovered. But, it was attached to the rest of the boy you, if not loved, at least profoundly lusted over, so of course you'd keep a close eye as he shifted around and occasionally hitched up his waistband. Hell, it was close enough to touch.

And that's when the devil in you got the worst idea of your life.

You looked to you hand, and to the prize, and back again as the smile split your face. Truly, a dreadful idea. He might simply break in half, and what would you do with him then? But you'd already drawn your hand back - and slapped him clean across his rear.

He yelped, and jumped up so hard he cracked his head on the bottom of his desk. Your own hand stung, but you couldn't stop laughing; joyful, wheezy laughter that got a hell of a lot wheezier when you got bodied clean across the room.

Oh yeah. Ortho.

"Hey buddy..." He had you pinned against the wall with one of his little hands around your throat, the other telescoping out into some sort of beam weapon. You couldn't really focus properly, the grip on your neck painfully tight and cutting off your air. "S'up?"

"Why did you hit my brother?" Oh, shit. "You shouldn't hit anyone! But especially not him!" You couldn't get any purchase with your feet as they scrabbled beneath you, and even with both hands trying to remove his own from around your neck, it just kept pressing, pressing, pressing as his arm cannon whirred and glowed into a full charge. "You hurt him."

You really would have liked to make an excuse, but you were getting awfully grey around the edges, and the only sound you could make was a gck-gck-gck as it occured to you that you were about to die at the hands of an overprotective little boy robot because you didn't have the good sense to keep your hands to yourself. Do they have Darwin Awards here? You're about to earn the top prize.

A long-fingered hand with discoloured nails set itself on Ortho's shoulder. "Ortho, stop."

Without a word, he dropped you, and stepped back as you coughed and struggled to your feet. He was still glaring at you as you stumbled towards the door, Idia behind him as he looked between you both.

You only made it partway down the hallway before you collapsed to the floor, shuddering with fear and adrenaline.

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

You rolled towards the voice, seeing a familiar tablet hovering over you.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Instant karma's a right bitch, in'it?" You still managed to laugh, even if it hurt like a bitch and sounded like you'd gargled whiskey and cigarettes. "You alright? Wanna come get some revenge?"

"Ortho won't let me out."

"She hit you!"

"I did. I'm sorry."

"If you were sorry you wouldn't have done it in the first place!"

"I shouldn't have done it." You sat up, taking deep, even breaths to slow the shudders racing though you. "Shitty thing to do, especially with no warning."

"Don't come back!"

"Ortho, she forgot her shoes, she has to come back."

In response, a door down the hall opened, and your shoes were pitched so far past you down the hall that they hit the far end and dropped to the floor, before the door closed with a loud bang and the clanging of locks.

"I'm sorry, guys. Both of you. See you later, maybe?" And with that, you left the tablet behind and slouched towards your shoes.

~*~*~*~

There was a knock upon your door, and a familiar person beyond it.

"Th'fuck're you doing here?" you stepped to one side to let him over the threshold, stifling a cough. "Skipping class today?"

"I wanted to check on you before Board Game Club, and Ortho's too busy right now to stop me." Idia peered down at you, wringing his hands. "Why are you skipping class?"

"Had a few with Mal today." Idia blanched, an impressive feat when his skin was so pale as to read almost blue. "Yeah, I don't want him after him either. But I'm good." And you were, really. Your neck was bruised all to shit, and it hurt when you breathed, but honestly, it had hurt to breathe at times ever since Eliza nearly macked you to death, and it was very easy to ignore. "You don't have to stay, especially when I scared you half to death just because I thought it was funny at the time."

He made a sound you couldn't identify, and closed the door. You shrugged. "Suit yourself, but you'll need to replace any windows he breaks coming in to check on you." Which was pointless considering the general state of Ramshackle Dorm, but the nights were growing cold, and even with your ghostly roommates agreeing to keep the fires on through the night, you'd need all the help you could get. You settled on one of the wounded couches to resume your novel, and he settled in beside you, leaning in. 

"Uh." 

He tugged down your collar, laying two fingers across the bruise that clearly outlined a mechanical thumb. "Does it hurt here?"

"Some. Not badly."

He pressed down. "Now?"

"More than before."

He repeated this at several places before he was satisfied that his overzealous brother hadn't caused you lasting damage.

"I'm so sorry, Yuu."

"No, I am. You have nothing to be sorry for." You turned to face him, his face still close. "That was fucked up of me to do, you don't touch anyone like that unless you get permission... Earth to Shroud?" You snapped you fingers by his ear, but he was staring at your neck, deep in thought.

That was when he lunged, and put his mouth on you.

You didn't have anywhere to go, and really, once he started, you didn't want to go anywhere. The ache of your throat turned to a sweet fire from the touch of his lips, his tongue, his teeth - at the first nip at your pulse that dragged down to your collar, you wound your hand through his hair and told him, in between wheezing gasps, "don't you stop, don't you dare fucking stop."

(And there was hair, too. You could feel it under the fire that crept and wound between your fingers, thick and with a soft curl to it, surprisingly robust considering the wan, turbuculitic quality of the rest of him.)

Unfortunately, he pressed you away into the couch as you wound around him, extracting himself from your grasp as he wiped your blood - at the sight, you made a sound that made you both blush - from his mouth.

"Oh no you don't, get back here -" He was already heading for the door, and your knees were too weak to hold you. "Get back here and finish what you fucking started! You prick! You asshole!"

He looked at you from the door. His lips swollen and purple, his face covered with a sweet red flush, and it physically ached to see him like that and not within distance of hand or mouth. But Idia smiled at you with a grin that twisted his face into something grotesque and malicious, and she shook his head and left without a word.

"Oh, wow." You whipped your head around, and Grimm was looking at you. God knows how much of that he'd seen, you certainly hadn't been giving him any thought. "You can't even see the handprint anymore."

You screamed in pure, blue-balled fury and threw your novel at him.

[rebeccalouisaferguson]

Back to the Future – Glass talks to Swedish actor Rebecca Ferguson about her roles in Dune, Mission: Impossible and the lessons we can learn from spaghetti

Rebecca Ferguson is on location in Budapest, possibly dressed up as a sci-fi high priestess with glowing blue eyes and a three-pronged bouffant. Dune, Denis Villeneuve’s 2020 reinterpretation of David Lynch’s 1984 Frank Herbert adaptation, needs reshoots of its own, so Ferguson is talking to me over the phone in between takes from what sounds like a galaxy far, far away …

In accordance with “soon-to-be-released-Sci-Fi-epic” law, Dune is shrouded in secrecy. As yet there are no behind the scenes featurettes, and no leaked stills to give an insight into Villeneuve’s vision for Ferguson’s character, Lady Jessica, the age-agnostic mother of Timothée Chalamet’s cosmic hero, Paul Atreides.

So, I do the only thing you can do when imagining the new cast of a reboot and attach Ferguson’s disembodied head to the beheaded body of her Lady Jessica predecessor. Et voilà, Rebecca Ferguson: live from Budapest, possibly looking like a futuristic, blue eyed, heavily bouffanted, Lynchian high priestess.

She’s called back from a location with better phone coverage and we’re discussing cities, from the “incredible” (Budapest), to the inhabitable (London, Ferguson’s second home), via LA, which, putting it mildly, fits neither criteria in the 37-year-old’s glowing blue eyes. “The idea of moving to LA has never, ever, ever been on my agenda,” she declares.

The first thing that strikes you about Ferguson is that she’s passionate talking about practically everything. “Look, there are people I love, who love it there … and I get it. When people there look at you and smile, there is a joy,” she pauses, reliving early encounters with LA, and smiles … “And a happiness which is so lovely and endearing and light – but I can’t take it too long. I just want to smoke a cigarette and kind of blow it in someone’s face.” An apology seems on the tip of her tongue, but she decides it would ruin the joke, and merely says, “I don’t actually smoke, by the way.”

She spends much of the year in a Swedish fishing village – “a different world”, she says, possessing all the things she loves: row boats, the ocean, her friends, grilling fish and just the right amount of smiling and joy. Ferguson’s open and only slightly sardonic disdain for the folly of wanton joy suggests, to me, two things. One: that while she clearly loves Sweden, the place of her birth and homeland of her father, the English side of her mother is potent.

And two: the ability to “get in and get out”, as she puts it, remains a priority. As a teen, Ferguson was unknown to the world but famous in Sweden as the star of soap opera Nya Tider. When the show ended and she was 15, she got out. “I studied, had a beautiful child, worked in restaurants, shops, God … in hotels – I did everything.” Everything but act, other than a couple of minor, un-recurring TV roles and student films in exchange for free lunch.

“I never wanted to go to drama school, mainly because I didn’t want to be like every other Swede in film. Not to criticise Lars Norén or … Ingrid Bergman, but all I could think was ‘I don’t want to be a drama student with a fucking purple beret on my head, I don’t want to be like them’. I think, now, looking back, I was just terrified I wasn’t going to get in.”

Eleven years after Nya Tider, Ferguson starred in Swedish language film, A One-Way Trip to Antibes. “And that was the gateway for me.” Soon after she was cast as Queen Elizabeth in BBC period drama The White Queen, which was less a conveyer belt towards ‘the big time’ as it was a treadmill cranked to 11. But playing Queen Elizabeth on the BBC isn’t without its drawbacks – play the role well enough and the whole world will think you’re English.

Being called Rebecca Ferguson probably doesn’t help, and her English is too perfect to be considered a second language. Most of all, though, it’s to do with the version of Englishness that lives so prominently in Ferguson: her mother’s version. “My mother is quintessentially English,” she says. “When she came over to Sweden, words and expressions like ‘whoops-a-daisy, ‘holy moly’ and ‘kerfuffle’ still existed – it’s how she spoke and it became the natural way of speaking for me, too.”

It made Ferguson a convincing Brit, laying the groundwork for the most seamless England/Sweden switcheroo since Ferguson’s own mother integrated so adeptly into her adopted home that, in 1975, she was awarded the ultimate endorsement: appearing on the sleeve of an Abba album. And yet, beyond the whimsical lingo, Ferguson is neither stiff, stoical nor repressed – three fundamentals of Britishness.

On chat-shows, she’s gregarious and tactile and warm, and this confuses people who go by the “if it looks like a Brit and sounds like a Brit …” metric. It’s a little like painting a cat with black and white stripes and saying, “what’s wrong with that zebra and why is it such an outrageous flirt?” “I’ve seen those bloody comments! It’s so weird. It makes me think I should stop touching people altogether, which is sad because, you know … we’re here, we’re together, we’re human beings.”

The problem is, when your wagon’s hitched to a vehicle like Mission: Impossible, where each instalment is an event, and every instalment ends with the promise of another instalment (Episodes 7 and 8 are in the works), chat show appearances are unending. Rumour is that number seven will be filmed in space, which is a worthwhile trade for the talk-show couch merry-go-round, depending on where you stand on heights. “In space? That’s news to me, but with TC nothing surprises me.”

TC is, of course, Mr Mission Impossible: Tom Cruise. “So,” I ask her, would she do it? “I would probably say ‘fuck off’ to that. Heights are my greatest fear and I’m not doing cognitive therapy acting … then again, I never thought I would jump 40 metres off that house in Vienna (Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation). That was bloody terrifying. But I did it … and got to do something that I never thought I would do, so maybe it is all just therapy?”

He’s a force of nature,” Ferguson says. “I’ve never met anyone like him.” There’s a unique fascination around Cruise, due to his personal life and the idea that the line separating him from his Mission Impossible character, Ethan Hunt, has become almost non-existent; that the actor has permanently morphed into the character, who now spends his days playing the role of the actor he once was. Which is a crazy suggestion, obviously, but Cruise is so intensely fascinating that I can’t help such ideas whirl through my head whenever I see him interviewed “out of character”.

I ask Ferguson what it’s like to have a relationship with someone so divisive, who invokes such strong opinions, and whether she feels strangely protective of Cruise. “I don’t think I can. I feel there’s no need to be protective of him. He’s powerful …  just the way he is. I feel like I’m supported by him all the time.” Nor does she tire of being asked about him. “He’s an interesting person to talk about, and a very interesting person to get to know.

The boyish charm, the need to always be doing fun things for everyone while making sure everyone feels safe … Sometimes we’ll start laughing and unbuckling our seatbelts just to fuck with him,” which weirdly is the only Tom Cruise anecdote I think I’ll ever need. “We’ve had some beautiful moments filming together.”

On which note, with our allotted 30 minutes long expired, I ask Ferguson what ‘together’ means to her, but she seems to have re-entered whatever foreign galaxy she started the interview in, and the question gets chewed up on its way over. She responds, “spaghetti?” which, after some clarification and deliberation, we decide to stick with, despite the kerfuffle. “Because togetherness is the opposite of isolation and segregation,” and nothing represents the importance of togetherness like than the profoundly sad sight of a lone strand of spaghetti.

by Charlie Navin-Holder

[reelperspective]

I’m generally not the type to mourn celebrity deaths. It’s usually beyond me to truly mourn the passing of someone who is so completely removed from my life. I tend to reserve grief for personal losses. I would say that is still true - I don’t know if you could call what I’m feeling grief, but it’s definitely something akin to it.

When I heard that Naya Rivera had passed away in a drowning accident, I thought “my god that sucks. That glee cast is cursed or something.” Then I moved on with my life, as one does. I felt it in the moment because Santana was my favorite character (well her and Brittany), but I didn’t dwell on it. I hadn’t seen the show in years, so I felt removed from it.

Months later, I go down a YouTube recommended video rabbit hole and end up watching the Glee version of Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide. I’d always loved that cover of the song. From the moment I first heard it, I thought it was beautifully arranged and flawlessly executed, but I digress. The point is, after watching it, I started watching other Glee videos (again, recommended videos). At a certain point I thought, “fuck it, I haven’t seen this show in years. Maybe it’s time for a re-watch.” So, I started to binge watch it. It is just as hilarious and awesome as the first time. And again, just as the first time, Santana proved to be my favorite character.

I think that Santana was the most emotionally complex character on that show. I think she had a great arc as a character that started off not being very sympathetic at all, to becoming a character that people could really relate to and root for. She had a fascinating duality to her as the bully who sometimes had a heart. Her love for Brittany added a significant layer to her character - displaying a side of her that had previously been unseen. A side reserved only for Brittany- the exception to her rule. Which is remarkable because, being that she was an idiot, Brittany should have been an easy target for Santana’s ridicule. Later, Santana reveals in a rant against Rory the Irishman, that she believes Brittany to be beautiful, innocent, and “everything good in this miserable, stinking world.” This revelation spoke to the heart of the character because it showed that despite her blatantly “Evil” characteristics, what Santana truly values most is goodness and purity of spirit. Brittany was the only person Santana never insulted. You could say that this is because she loved Brittany. That’s a factor, for sure, but I think the main reason is that even she couldn’t tear down someone so innocent. This, and other instances of vulnerability, developed Santana into a more three dimensional character - someone real, rather than just the caricature of a mean girl.

Yes, it’s true that the writers can be credited for this nuance in her character, but I believe it can be argued that Naya highlighted these nuances flawlessly. She did a beautiful job of portraying Santana’s *reluctant* displays of humanity. Not to mention how fucking talented she was when it came to the singing and the dancing. Vocally she’s top three along with Amber Riley and Lea Michele - and she’s a better dancer than either of them.

I noticed all of these things during this recent re-watch of mine. I’d always enjoyed Santana’s viscious barbs and her scathing wit, but this time I gained a deeper appreciation of the character as well.

Why am I talking about the character when this post started off being about grief? Well, watching the show again really drove home what a goddamn tragedy it is for the world to lose someone so talented and hilarious. This feeling drove me to look into Naya as a person. I listened to her audio book, and I read what people have said about her, and the general consensus is that she was an all-around amazing individual. She was Kind but sassy, tough yet compassionate, funny and intelligent. I then watched some of her interviews, and her personality was positively magnetic. She always lead with a blunt honesty that she delivered with this matter-of-fact attitude and wry wit. She owned up to things that most people in her position would hide. Despite the bluntness, she never seemed tacky or crass. Then to add to these revelations is the observation that she so clearly loved her little son with a tremendous passion. I’m sure all celebrities love their children more than life itself, but most don’t speak out about it specifically or so frequently. Naya, on many occasions, spoke of her passion for motherhood, and how much it meant to her to be Josey’s mom. With all of the things she has accomplished, she credited her son as her greatest success. Topics that get repeated across many conversations tend to be subjects that the speaker is fairly obsessed with. It is clear that her son was her whole world. He was not only her responsibility and her greatest love, but also her greatest source of joy. I’m not surprised that she somehow found a way to save him even though she couldn’t save herself.

Which leads to the final straw on the camel’s back - the manner in which she died. As was mentioned previously, she saved her son - which kicks you right in the feels. He had to witness some of her final moments - kick #2. Then there’s the tragedy of the circumstances of the death itself. Drowning is a horrific way to die. She must have been so terrified in her final moments. To add to this is the fact that had any of a number of events transpired differently, she’d still be with us today. Had she not gone to the lake that day. Had she gone with at least one other adult. Had she not jumped out of the boat. Had she worn a life vest. Had the boat had an anchor and a ladder attached to It’s side.

Then I’m confused about how this all went down. Apparently, she was sucked under the water by a current - I guess the equivalent of an undertow - but I thought undertows only happened in the ocean! Considering that this is a lake - a man made one at that- and not a river or an ocean, where the fuck did this incredibly strong underwater current come from? A lake is pretty much stagnant water, is it not? I looked at a map of it, and from what I can tell, there are no rivers feeding into this lake. So, I’m confused and this death is not only tragic, but senseless.

It’s just so fucking sad - every which way you look at it. I feel it in my very soul, and as I said before, I never feel celebrity deaths like this. I can’t stop thinking about her poor child having to grow up without his mommy. I lost someone as a child, and it left an enormous hole in my heart. I remember feeling so profoundly and absolutely destroyed. There are no words to describe the depths of my despair, and I can’t help but think that Josey is feeling that now. Though I was older than he is - I don’t know how much his young mind can make sense of or process the reality of his mother’s death. I know for sure that he is feeling it - he will miss her forever. Ryan Dorsey, his father, released a statement in which he said that he had to explain to his son that his mother was in heaven, and Josey asked him how he could go there too so that he could be with her. That just breaks my heart - I know exactly how he feels. I can’t stop thinking about Naya’s mother and how she collapsed on the dock at Lake Piru and threw her hands out in a display of pure, all-consuming grief. As I’ve said, I’ve felt grief like that before. I’ve collapsed to my knees under the weight of it. So, I feel for her family and her friends. I saw an interview in which the actress who played Santana’s abuela says that Heather Morris was so distraught, she wanted to jump into the lake to search for Naya herself.

I also feel a keen sense of loss for all of the wonderful things she will never do, all of the hilarious things she had yet to say, and all of the characters she might have been destined to bring to life with a singular authenticity. Lastly, and least importantly, I feel this keenly because she and I are the same age. The reality of such a thing just slaps one in the face.

That being said, I keep having these moments of cognitive dissonance as I’m watching the show. I feel her loss so much, yet it seems like she’s not dead. She can’t be! Look at her. Look at how full of life she is. She’s so young. That can’t be the reality - but alas, it is. I keep remembering that it is, and the cycle of emotion starts up all over again.

I know that part of the reason for my deep feelings about this tragedy has to do with my own experience with loss. I’ve lost so many people in my lifetime - some of which, I’ve loved more than life itself. At least one of which, I had wanted to follow into the grave because I could not fathom my life without her in it - it just hurt too much.

So I lay this all out here on tumblr. It is very likely that no one will ever read it, and that’s okay. I just needed to express it anyway as it has been building up inside of me.

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 12

Title: In the Quiet

Warnings: very brief mention of sexual abuse

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip​

He wakes to the press of her warm body against his and the smell of her hair. A mixture of coconut and honey; an inexpensive shampoo that she’s been using for more than a decade and he never tires of. It’s the scent of home; the reminder of the place where he’s the happiest and feels the most comfortable and secure. Where he can be himself without judgment; not looked down upon for his weaker moments or when the darker days of battling his own mind have him feeling scared and vulnerable. For years he’d tucked that side of himself away; using booze and pain meds as a way to mask the pain and escape the demons and the monsters of the past. He’d become emotionally absent; refusing to make connections with anyone out of the fear of becoming too close and getting too attached, only to lose them. And he’d convinced himself that he was unable to love or be loved; years of torment at the hands of his father and the horrible decision he’d made while his child was dying condemning him. It seems like a lifetime ago now; a whole other existence entirely. In the last twelve and half years he’s learned to love again; wholly and unconditionally and so profoundly it is physically painful at times. And he’s allowed himself to be loved in return; blessed with a woman that knows his deepest and darkest secrets and sees past all his faults. Who forgives his mistakes and always gives him another chance, even when he knows he’s not deserving of it. And seven children that he’s had a hand in creating; incredible little human beings that adore and trust him without hesitation.

It’s a life unlike anything he ever thought possible. When both the enormity of his horrible decision regarding his son and his profound grief had set in, he’d sought comfort in the bottle and the unpredictability of a dangerous and bloody career. Relegating himself to a solitary and miserable existence; refusing to allow anyone to get too close and using women for nothing more than sexual gratification. Convincing himself that he didn’t deserve anything beyond that; a warm body on a lonely night and that beaten and battered shack in the outback with its rusted tin roof. Knowing if he wasn’t lucky enough to catch that fatal bullet while on a job, he’d more than likely die there on the dusty floor; drinking himself to death or OD'ing on a mixture of painkillers and cheap whiskey. There were days he prayed for it; an end to the demons that had been tormenting him since the moment he’d gotten the call in Afghanistan that his only child had passed away.

Part of him had died the moment Austin had; all the experiences he’d hoped they’d share, all the dreams he had about what his son would achieve and who he’d become suddenly coming to an abrupt end. Logically, they’d ceased to exist months before. When the specialists had said that despite their best efforts with both chemotherapy and radiation, the cancer had returned and was just far too aggressive and advanced; palliative care and pain management the only remaining options. But while his wife had been devastated and immediately began planning for the inevitable, he’d clung to that faint hope that the medical professionals were wrong; some miracle would occur and Austin would beat the odds. Reality soon began to set in, and it was then that Tyler had discovered just how weak and vulnerable he really was; turning to alcohol to numb the pain, spendings hours and sometimes days away from home because he couldn’t bear seeing his son suffer and his wife run herself ragged and fall deeper and deeper in the pit of despair and grief.

He hadn’t been able to handle it; unable to ‘man up’ and be who and what both of them had so desperately needed. Despite the ongoing issues in their marriage and her long and sordid history of cheating -and the rumours that the kid wasn’t even his to begin with- she had deserved so much better. And he had longed to give her that; a shoulder to cry on and someone to help with the burdens of caring for a terminally ill child. But he’d chickened out. His own grief and fears getting the better of him; unable to handle the realization that he was a total failure. So he ran. Volunteering to head overseas instead of staying behind and stepping up. Leaving his wife to handle everything on her own and his son to wonder what he’d ever done to deserve being abandoned.

It doesn’t hurt as much as now. Not just the trauma of seeing your child suffer and waste away, but the guilt and the regret his poor decision had brought about. It’s taken years of therapy to get as far as he has; moments of profound anguish as every single one of the skeletons in his closet came tumbling out. It took reliving the initial pain to kick start the healing; periods of immense grief for the child he’d lost followed by periods of extreme self loathing and time spent in the deepest and darkest bits of despair and desperation. But it HAD helped; the guilt and regret lessening, the hatred for himself losing some of its power. It will always linger just under the surface; the sting of the decision he’d made, how he sees himself as a monster not just because of it, but because of the things he’s had to do while on the job. Killing had never been about satisfaction or enjoyment. It had always been a means to an end; his chances of survival hinging on whether he could be quicker to pull the trigger or if he could outwit, outsmart, and out strength his opponents. And the only times he had gotten some pleasure out of it -other than just recently in Laos and Cambodia- had been five years ago. When he’d brutally and bloodily taken the lives of two of Mahajan’s men in an elevator in Mumbai, and when he’d had no chance but to eliminate that threat that had drugged and attacked him first. It had been personal then; threats made against his wife and his children. And taking the lives of those who would have delighted in torturing and murdering his family HAD given him a sense of satisfaction.

The demons of the past don’t carry as much weight now. Their power significantly decreased. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t moments when self hate and disgust DON’T return. When his mood is dropping and he’s more prone to returning to the pain and the regret of the past. It doesn’t happen often; medication and therapy helping to keep those moments to a minimum. But they do make an appearance. Self loathing making a comeback; reminding him of all the things he’s said and done that DO make him a monster and telling him that he doesn’t deserve the life he has now. That he’s committed way too many heinous acts to ever be truly forgiven. Absolution would never come his way; he's too far gone for THAT. In the same way guys like him aren’t allowed to love and be loved in return. And that’s when the fear kicks in; the concern that his life is way too good to be true and everything that is beautiful and perfect in it will be taken away to teach him a lesson. His protectiveness stems from it. The fear and worry profound; driving him to hold on to what he has even tighter than usual. On those days it all becomes too much to bear; a tightness in his chest and an ache that reaches to his very soul.

Some of that returns now; the fear that tugs at his chest and gnaws at his stomach. It had started last night; decorating the tree with the kids and coming across the ornament that Millie had made for Austin years ago. It’s always bittersweet; remembering what he’d lost while reminding himself of everything he has now. Had things gone differently and Austin never gotten sick, life would have been dramatically altered. His marriage somehow managing to be salvaged despite her inability to stay faithful, or at the very least being able to co-parent peacefully and amicably. He would have stayed in the military; grief and regret and the feelings of failure never turning him towards alcohol and pain meds to numb the pain and effectively ending what could have been a great career in special forces. Had he stayed with SASR and kept on the straight and narrow, mercenary work would have never even been on his radar. And that’s when things become complicated and troublesome. Even if his marriage HAD still fallen apart, there would have been no chance of ever meeting Esme. It WAS the job that led him to her; years as a hired gun somehow culmination with him coming face to face with who would turn out to be the love of his life. He had always thought he’d loved Sarah; she’d been his high school sweetheart and his first of many things. And it wasn’t until he was thirty-five that his eyes had been opened to just how wrong he’d actually been. Simply by chance meeting someone that would -even twelve and a half years later- take his breath away. Who would see past his jagged edges and the amount of baggage weighing him down and take a chance on him; looking past the mess he’d made of his life and patiently tearing down all the walls he’d build up around his heart. Who still looks at him as if he’s the most incredible man on earth; loving him with everything she has and everything she is and possessing an extraordinary amount of blind faith and trust.

She IS love. Everything that is beautiful and perfect about it. Never given up on him or them. Had Austin NOT died, he never would have found her and would have never known real love in its purest and most unconditional of forms. And his kids wouldn’t exist; seven incredible little human beings that he’d had a hand in creating. And even if he could go back in time and change things, he wouldn’t. He would choose to bear the pain of Austin’s death and the punishment that came with the horrible choice that he made. In the same way he’d accept the Dhaka job a million times over; taking a million bullets to the neck if it meant he’d be rewarded with what he has now.

*****

She lies with her back to him and her head resting on his arm. It had long ago fallen asleep; pins and needles stretching all the way from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. They’d decided to bed down in the sunroom; pushing the love seat and the couch together to form a ‘nest’ and then fetching old comforters and pillows from the downstairs linen closet. Sometime in the early morning hours, she’d moved closer to him; briefly waking from her slumber long enough to move from her stomach to her side and then snuggling tightly into him. It’s a common occurrence if she has a bad dream. A desire for closeness; needing the feel of his much larger and bulkier frame against hers, quickly comforted by the warmth that radiates from it. His own eyes had never opened, body moving instinctively as he slid one arm between her head and the pillow while the other wrapped around her waist; drawing her even tighter against him, palm flat against her stomach and his face buried in her hair.

In the years he’d spent between his first marriage falling apart and meeting Esme, he’d gotten used to sleeping alone; enjoying the space and the freedom that came with having the entire bed to himself. In Dhaka, he’d been more than prepared to sleep on the floor until tempers flared; a heated argument erupting, fuelled by both sexual frustration AND tension, and his worry and fears surrounding what he was actually feeling towards her. It had taken some getting used to; having a body in bed with him throughout the night and waking up with them still there in the morning. But the adjustment had come quick, and by the third night he’d found himself actually enjoying the way she’d move closer to him; loving the feel of her skin against his and the brush of her hair and that soft, beautiful scent that lingered in it. Now he struggles to find rest without her. Used to the sound of her breathing and the weight of slender frame against his and the little noises she makes in her sleep; the soft sighs and the occasional murmur and giggles and the moments she starts to carry on very detailed conversations. All those little things that make her, her. And that he misses horribly when he’s away from home.

She rolls over to face him, eyes remaining closed as she issues a long, soft sigh and her hand comes to rest on his hip. The tips of her fingers dip below the waistband off his sweats; thumb repeatedly brushing against the slice of skin between the top of his pants and the hem of his t-shirt. For several minutes he watches as she sleeps. Eyes taking in every inch of her face; smiling and marvelling at the thought of how he’d not only somehow managed to both find her, but have her fall in love with him. She’s beautiful; the freckles splashed across and down the bridge of her nose, the long, dark eyelashes that skim the tops of her cheeks, the curve of her lips and the smooth line of her chin. It’s in those quiet moments where he only sees the damage done to her; the handful of small scars left behind from Mark’s fists and whatever ‘weapon’ he could get his hands on; electrical cords, wire hangers, heavy work boots and porcelain mugs and plates. There’s more. So much more. Disturbing ways that her ex husband had come up with to torture her both physically AND mentally.

There’d been other abuse as well; moments she’d been forced into sex itself or terrified into performing acts. And while it’s all equally vile and disturbing, THAT bothers him more than anything else. The fact that someone could violate and betray her in such a disgusting way. Someone that was supposed to love her; who’d taken vows to honor her and cherish her and care for her. And when she finally confessed the true extent of the abuse, the full story had sickened him; horrified and enraged at the thought of anyone touching her...the love of his life...in such a way. And it’s amazing. The fact that she’d not only managed to survive the abuse with her spirit and sanity intact, but that she’d been so willing and able to trust him. Giving everything of herself from that very first night in Dhaka; placing both her body and her heart in his hands and having all the faith in the world that he wouldn’t destroy them.

He places a palm over her ear; fingers splayed against her dark tresses and his thumb tracing the faint scar that cuts through the middle of her right eyebrow and travels up into her hairline. And when his hand moves to the back of her head and his lips find her brow, she gives another sigh; long and content, warm breath wafting against his skin. A soft smile curving her lips as her eyes flutter open and meet his.

“Sleeping beauty awakes,” he greets, and combs his hand through her hair, allowing the silky strands to slip slowly through his fingers. Lips pressing against her brow, followed by the bridge of her nose.

The smile broadens and those dark eyes sparkle. “Morning.”

“Morning. You good?”

“For the most part. You alright?”

“I’m perfect. It actually turned out to be a lot more comfortable than I thought it would be. You sleep okay?”

Esme shrugs. “I’ve had better.”

“You got up pretty early. Bad dream?”

She nods.

“You want to tell me about it or…?”

“Not really. It’s not something I want to relive.”

“Was it about me?”

“And Ovi. And me.”

“So a Dhaka dream?”

“Unfortunately. The first time there. And I haven’t had a dream about that in a long time. I was kind of hoping I’d never have one again, but....”

“Like Doctor Klein said, it’s never going to go away completely. It DID happen. We can’t pretend it never did.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to dream about it. It was bad enough living it. Do I really have to go through it all over again? While I’m asleep? It’s been twelve and a half years. Since it happened. And I haven’t had a dream about it in at least three. Now all a sudden it’s starting up again? What the hell is that about?”

“Me going away probably brought up some bad shit. And you’ve been stressed. That’ll do it.”

“I’m always stressed at Christmas. I always work myself up. Over stupid shit.”

“Doesn’t help that your mum sent that stuff from the kids and she’s been calling five times a day.”

“She knows what she’s doing, you know. This is a ploy. To fuck with me. She doesn’t bother for years and then all of a sudden decides to play the role of the perfect, doting grandmother? How long has she spent purposefully ignoring our kids? Treating them like second class citizens? Playing favourites? She pretty much stopped keeping track after Declan. I’m surprised she even remembered we had three more after him.”

“I’m kind of surprised she even remembered ANY of their names.”

“She’s not doing it for them. It’s not because she loves them and wants to spoil them. Her love is conditional. It always has been. And she knew getting in contact would bother me. That it would get under my skin and I’d dwell on it and I’d eventually cave and get in contact with her. Isn’t it enough that I sent a text message thanking her? Or that I’ll have the kids make thank you cards and send them to her? Do I REALLY have to talk to her?”

“Normally I’d say just ignore her and I’d remind you that you don’t owe her or anyone else in your family anything, but she’s only to keep calling. She’s only going to step it up and get worse. And seeing as we’d like to enjoy Christmas and have a nice peaceful holiday…”

“Maybe I should let my phone die and we’ll just use yours. Chances are she won’t message you.”

“The perks of being at the top of her most hated list, I guess. Why don’t you just block her?”

“Because then she WILL get a hold of you. And that won’t end well. You’re due for losing your shit on someone. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

“Not like she wouldn’t deserve it.”

“I’ll just keep ignoring her. Maybe she’ll get the picture and just give up.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just talk to her and let her say what she has to say? Let her run her mouth and hang up on her. Then block her. Boom. Done.”

“I don’t want to hear her shit though. I’m already not in a good place. Mentally, speaking. Why let her make it worse? That’s just asking for trouble. And I really do not want to spend my Christmas doped up on Valium or drunk off my ass. Maybe you could message her. From my phone. Pretend you’re me. Telling her off.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll know it’s me. But I’ll take one fo the team. She already hates me and wishes I was dead. Can’t get any worse than THAT.”

“Who gives a fuck what she says. Isn’t that what you always say? Fuck what my family says? Let’s NOT talk about them.”

******

She wriggles closer to him; the fabric of her plaid shirt pressed against his chest and her cheek resting on his pillow. A hand sliding under his tee and over his ribs and around to his back; fingertips repeatedly grazing up and down his spine. And he lays a palm on the back of her head and presses his lip to her temple; allowing them to linger there for several seconds before resting the side of his nose against hers. Neither speak as time ticks on. Eyes closed and warm breath tickling skin. The tips of his fingers burrowed in her hair and gently massaging her scalp as hers continue their exploration of his back; travelling over the various and tracing the outline of the tattoo that sits between his shoulders. It’s when she reaches the scar left behind from Nathan’s attack that he pulls back to look at her, finding those dark, soulful eyes staring up at him.

“Does it hurt?”

Tyler shakes his head. “Not this morning.” Some days there’s discomfort there. More a tightness than an actual ache; damage done to the nerve sometimes causing loss of sensation into his hip and down the back of his leg. Other times it feels as if the wound is freshly acquired; a burning and throbbing that reminds him of the moment Nathan had stuck his fingers into the bullet hole to cause more pain and inflict greater damage.

“It’s been okay? For the most part?”

“More good days than bad days. Sometimes it feels like there’s something stuck in there; moving around and pressing against shit.”

“There’s no actual chance of that, right? That they left something in there? I mean, they showed me the bullet. They got it all out. Or at least it looked like it did. Do you think something could have been left behind? A small fragment? Do you think…?”

“I think you need to stop worrying. It’s been five years. Almost six.”

“Even after twelve years, I don’t think you fully comprehend that I CAN’T stop worrying. It’s who I am. I worry about the people I love. And I love you a bit more than everyone esle, so…”

“A bit more, huh?”

She grins and presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Just a bit. You know what would be nice? If we could stay here all day. Right here. Cuddled up just like this.”

“It would be,” he agrees, and slides his forearm between her shoulder and the cushions; hand coming to rest on her upper arm, thumb repeatedly brushing against smooth skin. “But..”

“No,” Esme protests, and nuzzles her face into his neck; head under his chin and her nose pressed against his Adam’s Apple. “No ‘buts’. I don’t want to hear any ‘buts’.”

“As much as I hate to be the bearer of bad news, we DO have kids. Who very shortly are going to discover we’re not upstairs and come looking for us.”

“Let them fend for themselves. We deserve a break. A mommy and daddy break.”

“Few more months, babe. And then two weeks. Just us.”

“In Santorini,” she reminds him.

“Wherever you want to go, that’s where we’ll go.”

“Still doesn’t mean I WANT to move anytime soon. I’d still rather lie here with you all day. Preferably with less clothes on.”

“I was hoping for totally naked, myself.”

“Me too. Just lie, totally naked, and make love. All day?”

“All day?”

She pulls back to look at him; a grin playing on her lips and her eyes sparkling playfully. “What? You don’t think you have it in you anymore?”

“I was more worried about you no longer being able to handle that kind of thing.”

“Oh don’t you worry about me. You know how resilient and tenacious I am. And how I’m fully committed when I’m really into something.’

“I’ve seen all of that first hand. I could handle it. I’d need water and food breaks, but I’d be game.”

Placing her elbow on the cushion below, she props the side of her head in her upturned palm, fingers of the other hand tracing the tattoo that decorates the left side of his neck. “Remember our little apartment? Outside of Sydney?”

“I do. I remember it very well.”

“When you finally got out of the rehab place and were finally able to live there full time? Instead of just weekends home? We had A LOT of those days in bed. Enjoying each other as much as we wanted. Rarely wearing clothes even when we DID leave the room.”

“The good old days, you mean?”

“We had some really good times in that little apartment. It was kind of weird though, don’t you think? Living together and having a baby while still in the process of really getting to know one another? It was strange. How we tackled things. Wasn’t exactly a normal way of going about it.”

“I figured we didn’t start out normal, so why bother going that way?”

“There was definitely nothing conventional about how we met. It’ll make a great story one day. For one of our kids to tell on our fiftieth anniversary.”

“Only thirty eight more years to go. Think you can handle it?”

“I think I’ll be okay. Do you think YOU can?”

“I’m pretty sure that if we could survive the past twelve years...especially the last five...that there's nothing we CAN'T get past.”

“Listen to you all sappy first thing in the morning,” she teases, and hooks a finger around the chain that dangles from his neck and pulls him into a kiss. “By the way, your daughter and I had a very interesting conversation yesterday. While you were out with the rest of the spawn.”

Sighing heavily, he presses a final kiss to her forehead and then rolls onto his back; hands pushing through his hair before clasping them together at the nape of his neck. “If it’s about periods or boys, I do NOT want to hear it.”

“I’ll go easy on you; I think I’ve tortured you enough for the time being. I still say you need to be prepared. Just in case…”

“And I’ll let you do what you need to do to get me prepared. I have faith in you. That you won’t throw me to the wolves.”

“I would never.” She rolls onto her stomach and props herself up on both elbows. “And this isn’t about Millie herself. Just something she’s concerned about.”

“And you promise it’s not about her period or boys?”

“I promise. It actually surprised me. And I thought with having a mercenary husband and after birthing four boys, that there was nothing that could possibly surprise me anymore.”

“Is she okay? Millie?”

“She’s fine. She’s Millie. There’s nothing wrong with her. Like I said, it isn’t really about her. It’s about something she’s worried about. And to be honest, I’m kind of worried about it too. A lot worried, actually.”

“You’re starting to worry ME now.”

“It’s about Alannah. And her home life.”

“About how badly it sucks?”

“Pretty much. I mean, you’ve seen it first hand. You’ve been in that home. You’ve talked to her parents. You know what they’re like.”

“If you mean emotionally absent and full of shit, yeah, I’ve seen it. Those people are fucked up, babe. I don’t know how you can have that much money and have nothing all at the same time. I don’t get it; how people can be that soulless and empty. And that's saying something when it comes from a guy that kills people for a living.”

“Normally this is where I give you a stern talking to about how that’s not all you do, but I’ll let it slide. For now. You’ve been in that home. A handful of times. You’ve talked to them. On the outside, everything looks great. They drive luxury cars, they wear designer clothes, her mother is practically dripping in expensive jewelry everytime I see her. I mean, they send her to a really expensive private school. They put on a pretty good show, you have to admit.”

“It’s what they want people to see. They want everyone to think everything is perfect. That they have a great life. Trust me, there’s nothing great about it. Not for the kid, anyway. And I grew up with someone with no soul or moral compass. That house? Worse vibes than the one I was raised in.”

“Which is saying a lot. You lived a shitty life. You’d recognize the warning signs. You were THAT kid.”

“So were you. You didn’t get your ass handed to you on a daily basis, but the mental stuff is just as bad. If not worse sometimes.”

“So we BOTH know how horrible it is. Growing up where we’re not wanted. And I know my mom always put on a big show for everyone. Acted like life was amazing and that she was the perfect mother. Behind closed doors? Mommy fucking dearest. Both of us deserved so much better growing up And so does Alannah.”

“I agree. She does. So where do we come into this? What’s Millie worried about?”

“It’s not just Millie that’s worried. I am too. I know how bad a crappy upbringing can fuck someone up. I’m a mess. And most of it leads right back to my mom. I’m the first to admit that I’m pretty fucked up. That I’ve got some long term issues I do battle with every day. Because of her. In the same way you have your own things; related to your dad.”

“Okay…”

“I don’t want that happening to her. I don’t want her turning into me. I don’t want her ending up with a guy like Mark because she has zero self worth and doesn’t think she deserves better. I don’t want her being forty years old and married to a second guy -an amazing guy, for the record- and completely unable to fully appreciate him because of some shit experience. I don’t want her turning out like this. I don’t want her spending her life hating herself and thinking she’s garbage because that’s all she was told she was. I don’t want some other guy ending up like you; loving someone so wholly and completely yet having to right another man’s wrong. That’s not fair. To you. Or to whatever guy she ends up with.”

“Babe, you…”

“Don’t try and deny it, okay. Don’t try and play it down. I know what I’m like. I know how bad I can get. You’ve spent the last twelve years having to prove you’re not him. And that isn’t fair. And I’m sorry. For ever making you feel like you’re not good enough or that you’re somehow like him. Because you’re not. You are so far from being anything like him. I’ve never meant to hurt you. And if I knew how to stop being this way…”

“Esme…” He lays a hand on the back of her neck and lifts his head to kiss her. “...stop. I love you. I get it. Why you are the way you are. In the same way you get why I’m the way I am. And you know what? We’re both fucked up. But somehow it works. WE work.”

“I just don’t want Alannah ending up like this. She’s still so young. There’s time to stop it. Before it happens.”

“How? You’re not her mother. What are you going to do? Go over there and over advice? Teach some parenting classes? Because that will go over REALLY well.”

“I’m hardly the person who should be teaching parenting classes. I’m not exactly perfect myself.”

“Your kids think you are. I think you are.”

“You think the sun shines out of my ass and that I poop glitter and fart rainbows. You’re hardly a good judge. But…” she leans in and presses a kiss to his lips. “...I love you for always wanting to stroke my ego. For always looking at me like butterflies fly out of my butt.”

“Your ass is nice, but it’s not THAT nice. And this stuff with Alannah. What can we do about it? She already spends more time here than at her own place. What more do you want?”

“Well she obviously likes being here. You’ve seen her at her own house. She doesn’t smile, she barely talks, hardly eats. Doesn’t even make eye contact with people. It’s like she’s nothing but a shell. And then she comes here and she’s completely different. She’s smiling and she’s laughing and she’s so loveable and sweet. And helpful. She’s a good kid. A good kid that deserves so much better.”

“You’re still not telling me what you think we can do about it. And we’re not moving here, so don’t even bring that up. We’ve talked about that. Numerous times. This isn’t the place for us. Not on a permanent basis:”

“I know. And to be honest, I wouldn’t want to live here full time. I love where we are. It’s private and it’s quiet and it’s beautiful. That’s home. No other place can even come close to that. It’s nice to visit here, but living? Definitely not a good idea. Especially for you. And Tanner. You guys need the quiet and the calm.”

“So what DO you want to do? You say you want to help the kid. How do we help her?”

“Millie brought something up. An idea. And it’s not totally horrible.”

“And that is…”

“She asked if we can bring Alannah back with us. To Australia.”

“As in permanently or…?”

“Temporarily. I think. For now. I don’t know; we didn’t really get that deep into it. She suggested it and I told her that I’d talk to you. So, here I am. Talking to you.”

“We can’t just take the kid. We can’t just toss her on a plane and take her home with us. There’s this thing called kidnapping, in case you didn’t realize.”

“And I told Millie that. That we can’t just take her with us. She DOES have a family. A shitty one, but a family nonetheless. We’d have to go through a lot of steps. Just like we did with Ovi. That was a lot of work. Getting everything in order so he could go with us to Colorado. I mean, we were in Mumbai for a month while the lawyers figured everything out.”

“It was a lot of red tape. And Australia’s a lot more strict than the States. About who they let in. And we’d have to get her signed up for school. She can’t just hang around the house. We both work and the kid has to learn. It’s not like we’d just be bringing her for an extended vacation.”

“But it CAN be done. I mean, I was allowed to stay in Australia.”

“Yeah, because we were getting married and we were having a baby. Two perfectly good reasons to let you stay. We bring some random kid home with us…”

“We’d have to call the lawyer. He’d be able to advise us. On how to handle everything. He’d probably be able to handle all the paperwork. And we’re not talking about adopting her. We became Ovi’s legal guardians. That’s a whole other ballgame. We’d just be taking her on an adventure. Let her experience something new. Give her a real family. People that love her and siblings to play with and drive her crazy.”

“And then what? We just send her back home a few months? Just ship her right back to the bullshit here? That makes NO sense.”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead. I just thought for the time being, we could help her out. Give her time away from her shitty life. And if in the end she really loves it and wants to stay, then we think about guardianship.”

“You’re talking about taking on another kid. That’ll make eight.”

“Two days ago, you wanted me to get my tubes patched up so we could have an eighth,” Esme points out.

“Yeah, one of our own. A baby. That we make. Together. Not someone else’s kid.”

“But that isn’t going to happen. We agreed on this. After the twins. That seven was enough.”

“But you’re okay with taking on Alannah? Just not with having our own baby.”

“I can’t do it again. I just can’t. I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone. But I am babied out. And this is a kid that needs our help. You're always the first person that WANTS to help everyone.”

“Usually when I’m helping people, I’m getting sent somewhere to kill someone. Not taking in their kids.”

“I will admit, it’s not a fool proof plan. Or much of a plan at all. And I do have my own concerns.”

He reaches out and pushes a hand through her hair; allowing the dark tresses to slip between his fingers and then looping strands over her ears. “Which are?”

“I worry about us. Me and you. Our plates are full. We have seven kids we’re raising. And we’re doing a damn good job, you have to admit. We make a really good team.”

“Yeah, we do. We always have. Right from day one.”

“But we’re also taking time to nurture us. Our relationship. That’s important. How many times has it been drilled into us? At therapy? That we need to step away sometimes and make the effort to connect and stay close and keep our bond the way it is. We’ve had to work on that. A lot. We’ve both had to step up to make sure we didn’t fall apart. To make sure we remember that we’re not just two people raising kids together. And I don’t want to lose that. Those moments with you.”

“I don’t want to lose that either. It’s a big deal to me. You know that. Keeping things together. Keeping US together.”

“And you’ve been amazing. At putting in the time and the effort. And it’s gone so well. We are so much stronger than we were five years ago. By A LOT. You know how cheesy it would always sound? When you’d hear people talking about loving someone more and more every day? I thought it was so stupid. That there was no way that was true. And in these last five years? I’ve realized how wrong I was. Because I DO love you more every day. And I’m scared something will come along and wreck that.”

“But? I know there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

“But I can’t help but worry that we’re letting Alannah down. That we’re just leaving her to suffer and grow up to be just as messed up as us. We have a chance to help her. And I don’t think my conscience will let me just walk away and leave her here. Not without at least trying to help.”

Tyler nods slowly as he considers her words; absentmindedly twirling a strand of her hair around his index finger.

“You don’t think I’m selfish do you? That I want to help? Even thought I’m scared of fucking us up?”

“Actually, I think you’re selfless. Not selfish. If you’re willing to risk something to help this kid....”

“I don’t want to risk anything. That’s the problem. I want to help, but I don't want to jeopardize us. That’s the last thing I want. Because we have come so far and we are so much better now and we’re so much stronger. I do not want this to be a case of a hundred steps forward and a thousand steps back.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures her. “I won’t let that happen. We just keep doing things the way we are. We make each other a priority. Like we've been doing for five years now. Taking on Alannah is not going to change that. If she was a baby or a toddler we were bringing aboard, I’d say no way in hell. Because that would be a lot of work and yeah, things would fuck up. Between us.”

“So what can we do? To help her. You want to, right? Help her?”

“I do. But…”

“I KNEW that was coming.”

“...it’s not just as easy as taking her back with us. I wish it was. But it is NOT that simple. And you know that. From the experience with Ovi.”

“I do. I DO know that. And I told Millie as much. That we had to jump through a lot of hoops to be able to bring him with us to Colorado.”

“And I don’t mind putting in the work and calling the lawyer and putting this out there to him. But it’s only going to work if her parents are on board. And honestly, I don’t know how the fuck we’d go about that. Talking to them.”

“You talked to Mahajan. About Ovi. You went to the prison in Mumbai and spoke to him.”

“That was an entirely different situation. He knew he couldn’t provide a proper home for his kid. He knew he couldn’t keep him safe. He didn’t really have a choice, and he knew that. But I can’t just go walking into Alannah’s house and tell her parents I want to take her to Australia. I can’t just say ‘you’re shit parents, give me your kid’. They’ll tell me to fuck off and most likely call the cops.”

“I guess that wouldn’t be the perfect way to approach the subject. But we could. Talk to them. Rationally. And calmly.”

“And they could turn around and tell us both fuck off and then forbid their kid from coming over here. Which means we break Alannah’s heart AND our daughter’s.”

Sighing heavily, Esme places her forehead against his chest and groans dramatically. “Why does this have to be so hard?”

“We need to figure out how to approach this. Without stirring up the hornet’s nest. And we can’t just make a decision like this overnight. We need time to talk about this. REALLY talk about it. Because this is a huge deal. This isn’t just bringing the kid for a vacation.”

“But we will? Talk more about it?”

“Can we get past Christmas first? Because I would really like to get through this holiday with what’s left of my sanity somewhat intact.”

“Maybe after New Years Eve. Then we can sit down and really talk it out. Pros and cons. The whole nine yards. We don’t need to rush into this. There’s a lot of time before we head back home. And if we DO decide to take her and her parents agree, we’ll need to give the lawyer some time to work on getting past the red tape.”

“I’m not promising anything, Me. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that I want to do this and I think we should. I’m not going to lie to you. I don’t know if it’s a good idea. But I WILL think about it. And talk about.”

“That’s all I want,” she says, and presses a kiss to his cheek and then the corner of his mouth before placing her head upon his chest.

“You know…” he runs a palm down the length of her hair, then rests it on the small of her back. “...I don’t know what kind of hoodoo voodoo black magic you got going on, but I seem to get talked into the most fucked up shit.”

Laughing, she places her chin on his chest and looks up at him. “It’s the eyes. They get you every time.”

“And the ass. And the things you let me do to it.”

“We are NOT having that particular conversation. That’s just a no from me. We can go there, but we don’t need to discuss it. And speaking of going places, today’s the day.”

“Your little shopping trip with Desi. You ARE going to spoil yourself, yeah? No buying anything for me or the kids. We don’t need shit. This is all about you. So go crazy. Buy a whole fucking store if you want. I do NOT care.”

“Any requests? Something you’d like me to buy? Something you’d like to see me in?”

“Not really. I prefer you out of clothes, not actually IN them. But maybe something sexy?”

“Sexy as in a dress to wear for a night on the town or…?”

“Sexy as in only for my eyes to see.”

She grins. “You mean bedroom sexy.”

“Exactly.”

“I thought you didn’t care about the packaging? I thought you only cared about what’s underneath?”

“I don’t usually care. But, I do have plans. For New Years Eve. After Ovi’s wedding.”

“Really?” Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “What kind of plans?”

“It’s a surprise. But I think something sexy would fit right in.”

“Is it mommy and daddy ONLY plans?”

“Yes. Just us. No kids anywhere near us. No interruptions.”

“You want to have wild and crazy sex all night. The kind of wild and crazy sex that we can’t have with kids in the noise. The noisy kind of wild and crazy sex.”

“That would be nice, yeah. I would love to have some wild and crazy noisy sexy with my wife.”

“In that case…” she slides further up the couch and pushes a hand through his hair, speaking between soft pecks that she places on his hips. “...I will buy something very, very, VERY sexy. Just for you.”

“You spoil me.”

“You deserve it. You’re a good man, Tyler Rake. You’re a keeper.”

“And speaking of spoiling…” Curling an arm around her waist, he unceremoniously dumps her onto the mounds of bunched up pillows and comforters and then sits back on his heels. A grin playing at the corners of his mouth as his palms travel along the backs of her calves; fingertips grazing against the skin of her inner thighs before applying gentle pressure in silent encouragement for her to open them. “...it’s my turn.”

[bettsfic]

hi betts! I don't mean to drag you back into a ship or headspace you don't wanna be in, but could you talk a little about what makes the romance as redemption/"bad guy turns good out of love" trope appealing? I'm trying to explain it to a friend but I can't seem to articulate it all very well—she's convinced that redemptive romances are harbingers of misogynistic doom and can only ever be written poorly.

yikes @ your friend. sounds like she’s been drinking the fanpol koolaid.

i think any time someone makes sweeping judgments of a general narrative concept rather than the specific execution of that concept, they’re just flat-out wrong. personally i tend to hate depictions of betrayal, not because they’re morally wrong but because it often disengages me from a story. but in the old guard, for example, booker’s betrayal is done out of a misguided sense of loyalty, and it provides a lovely complication of not only the story but the entire premise of the universe. 

a less kool-aid way of presenting your friend’s opinion is, “i find most redemption arcs unearned therefore mitigating the catharsis i would have received from the resolution.” or maybe even, “forgiveness is not a narrative conceit i prioritize and so i find redemption unfulfilling.” or perhaps, “revenge, bitch.”

i remember the very first redemption i ever wrote was back when commenting on ao3 was still the default interaction of fic, and morality policing was still in a pleasant lull. i was trying to redeem john winchester, who was widely reviled in fandom, and i remember being so viscerally upset about that, because at the time i was still taking other people’s innocuous opinions as a personal slight against me. to me, i translated “john winchester is an abuser who can’t be redeemed and dean should never forgive him” into “your father was abusive and he died before you could forgive him, therefore you will have to live with your rage and resentment toward him for the rest of your life.” 

thankfully, therapy and an influx of bad internet opinions knocked that mentality out of my brain.

in those early days, john winchester’s redemption was a way for me to process my father’s death, which was still very new. i was fascinated by the comments i received on my fic -- they were firmly divided between people saying they appreciated the depiction of forgiveness between dean and john, and harsh judgments of john from people who didn’t believe he ever deserved forgiveness. i felt very confused by the latter opinion, and realized there are just a lot of people in this world who have profoundly firm boundaries, who struggle with compassion, or have fearful-avoidant attachment styles in their relationships.  

it really comes down to a preference between people who are more fulfilled by stories in which a character does something bad and therefore they deserve to be punished; or a character who does something bad and they deserve to earn forgiveness. both preferences are fine, as all preferences are, but believing that the former is more morally pure than the latter is a freezing cold take, and people who find themselves engaging in that train of thought need to take a long hard look at themselves.

but you asked specifically about romance. i’ve had the experience where partners have wronged me so badly that i stopped loving them. but i’ve also had some partners who have wronged me and i kept loving them. the dude who broke up with me and proceeded to fuck every single one of my friends (one of them right in front of me!!) presumably to mess with my head, and then had the audacity to ask for me back? i told him i was never going to speak to him again and blocked him in every way i could. there’s literally nothing that guy can do, even now, ten years later, to redeem himself to me. the guy who groomed and manipulated me at 14 (he was 18), but years later realized the horrible things he had done and devoted his life to being the best and most loyal friend i could possibly have? it took a long time, but i forgave him. he had changed. he grew. he learned how to learn. he never asked me for anything more than friendship, and he loves me for who i am. 

without that experience, that someone could love me enough to step up and take accountability for his actions, apologize earnestly, and earn my trust again, i wouldn’t believe in redemption, and i probably would have less interest in writing and reading it. but i know what it looks like in reality now, and i’m drawn to writing stories that depict the process of growth and forgiveness, from both the betrayer and the forgiver. not only do i find those narratives personally satisfying, but i want to show other people what redemption really looks like, so they can navigate the extremely fraught and confusing question, “should i let this person into my life again?” 

sadly, i think that’s why so many people can’t conceive of a realistic redemption -- no one who has hurt them has ever stepped up, and perhaps they haven’t forgiven themselves or even acknowledged the ways they’ve hurt others. 

maybe that’s what you should ask your friend. what would it take for her to forgive someone who had hurt her? and when she answers, if she can answer, ask, “don’t you think that’s a story worth telling?”

[heavyarethecrowns]

Kate Middleton: Prince William’s Decade-Long Mistake - Oct 2010

Who is Kate Middleton? After nearly 10 years of seeing Kate’s recorded behavior, this is my impression: Kate Middleton doesn’t care about any causes, charities or anything outside of living for pleasure. I doubt her ability to handle royal responsibilities – beyond dealing with privileges and paparazzi – because in the ten years the world has watched her, she hasn’t demonstrated she can take on anything but a royal c*ck and a jolly good time. While true, she isn’t married to William and isn’t in fact a royal (and may never be, for all we know), her perseverance implies she’s in it for the long haul and plans to become the Princess of Wales. As such, she should have taken these years to demonstrate to the world that, although she’s a common-bred, middle-class girl, she’s an exceptional lady who rises above the rest. But Kate has failed profoundly in that respect. The last thing the women of the public should be thinking when they see William’s marital choice is, “What on earth makes her so special? I could have done that/been in her place – and done it better! -Maybe I should have gone to St. Andrews!” But that’s what women, including myself, are lead to think of her. Coming from her background, as a common, everyday girl, it shows her complete lack of humility, and is borderline arrogant, for her to assume she can live like a spoiled brat who doesn’t need to prove herself. She enjoys a privileged life that she wasn’t born into – and for the life of many, we can’t understand why. Why was she chosen? Why not someone else? Why not a woman the vast majority can respect and admire? Let’s be honest here: William can have nearly anyone he wants – and he’s settling for this average circus monkey?

At first glance, Kate seemed like a well kept, nicely mannered woman – and well-suited for a royal position. In the first few years of her royal relationship, she shone as an attractive, educated, beautifully fashioned, friendly, and conservatively-behaved young lady. But that was then. Now, upon looking back at Kate’s near-decade as an unofficial princess-in-waiting, her behavior reveals her as a underwhelming choice for the monarchy. She’s demonstrated that she’s far from exceptional, and that aside from her pursuit of a crown, she’s a disappointing, arrogant underachiever of little substance.

Ambitious In All The Wrong Ways:

Those who know Kate often describe her as ambitious; and in the beginning, that’s the side of her the public got to see. Kate worked hard on her academics so she could attend the prestigious St. Andrews University, where William was also set to attend. While there, she met William and completed the same degree as him, in Art History.  Following their graduations, William began the demanding military career he still pursues today. However, surprisingly, the once ambitious-seeming Kate did nothing: She remained jobless for nearly two years, living off of her parents (and William, I’m sure). Kate finally got a part-time job as an accessories buyer at the fashion chain, Jigsaw, but quit after only 11 months. Notably, rumors suggest Kate only got the job to passify Her Majesty, The Queen, who took notice that her grandson’s significant-other was a lazy freeloader. After that, she worked for her parent’s internet business, Party Pieces (which to many read like an unemployment cover-up). Apparently, Kate made updates to their website and took photos for it. That sounds pathetic and hardly full-time. Not to mention, Kate’s monthly getaways to exotic locations with William attest that her parents gave her an overwhelming amount of time off whenever she wanted it. That’s hardly a real job. And if that’s not disappointing enough, Kate quit the job all together in October of 2009 and has officially been doing nothing but shacking up with William while he pursues his career ever since. I’m sorry Katie dear, but for any 28 year old – especially a potential Queen of England – that’s absolutely not good enough.

There are several obvious problems with the reality of Kate’s ambitions (or lack thereof). She was ambitious about her education, but clearly didn’t want or need it for a career – So, what was she even at St. Andrews for, and why was she ambitious about getting there? She graduated from a top notch university, only to settle for unemployment and a job her parents provided? Logically, it’s mismatching for someone to aggressively pursue a top-tier education only to fall flat as a lazy, career-underachiever immediately and permanently thereafter. The fact that Kate did just that leads me, and countless others to believe she was only academically driven so she could put herself in William’s way and try to form a relationship with him. Also telling are the numerous reports by those close to Kate’s mother that Mrs. Middleton pushed her daughter’s attendance to St. Andrews in hopes of her becoming royalty.

Kate: The Attention-Loving Wild Child

When Kate’s not working – and that’s most of the time – she goes shopping, attends leisurely sporting and social events, and parties ’till her heart’s content in Britain’s most luxurious night spots (Paris Hilton style – ick). The photos of her nightlife are less than flattering – actually, they’re flat out embarrassing – especially for the potential next Princess and Queen of Wales. She often looks extremely intoxicated, and her attire and car-exiting-techniques have granted the paparazzi dozens of “crotch shots”.

[picapp align=”none” wrap=”false” link=”term=kate+middleton&iid=756945″ src=”http://view3.picapp.com/pictures.photo/image/756945/kate-middleton-birthday/kate-middleton-birthday.jpg?size=500&imageId=756945&#8243; width=”234″ height=”151″ /] Kate characteristically grinning as she’s hounded by the paparazzi

Any other 28 year old woman would be focused on a career or starting a family – or both; But Kate just parties like she’s some rich 19 year old without any responsibilities. In fact, she’s only too happy to show that side of herself to the paparazzi – and the world. Her parents and William (taxpayer dollars) have financially supported her throughout her twenties – extravagant vacations included – and Kate’s habitual ear-to-ear smile indicates she’s loved every minute of it. As long as she’s attached to William, she doesn’t have a care in the world that other (common) women like her have – aside from her image, and she’s let that fall to the wayside. From the bright red coat she wore to William’s military graduation to the never-failing smile she wears for the paparazzi, Kate’s self-presentation says she loves being a celebrity and all eyes being on her. Unfortunately, Britain needs a princess who naturally exudes a respectable image when she provokes the world to look.

William’s Mistake – William’s Responsibility

I understand William’s need to pick a lady who’ll roll with the punches, deal well with the crazy, public lifestyle (privacy invasion, etc.), and conform to suit the monarchy’s needs. Nevertheless, it’s his mistake in assuming those are the only criteria a future princess must meet. If there was a checklist for the “Qualities of the Most Ideal Future Princess of Wales”, Kate would scantily fulfill 20% of them:

Intelligence and Wit

Humility

Career ambition/self sufficiency

Physical beauty – (C’mon, princesses are supposed to be pretty! -Especially when the prince is popular enough to take his pick. Kate’s…just…okay…)

Noble/Aristocratic blood (if not this, then a woman who stands far above the crowd of other commoners)

Grace and Conservative femininity (that goes out the window when you’ve been banging the prince for a decade without a commitment – Oh, and the rumored accidental pregnancies (abortion fanatic if they’re true! *cough* TMI *cough*))

Charity and service for those in need (I volunteered like crazy in college, and I’m not anywhere near royal… Why didn’t Kate?! – And why hasn’t she since??)

Respectable and responsible image (yeah, umm, no)

Takes on royal responsibilities to earn royal privileges (Kate’s only got the acceptance of privileges part down…)

Aaaand the list goes on…

Of course, there’s the possibility that Kate’s the girl who’s a match for William’s heart. But I doubt it. Kate’s the girl with everything to lose if the relationship fails, and everything to gain if it succeeds – her greatest skill is that she’s willing/desperate enough to jump through all and any hoops, including waiting 10+ years for a proposal – and William knows it.

It may have been 10 years, but it’s not too late for William to turn around and make a better decision. Kate hasn’t been cheated – contrary to some’s beliefs. She’s lived a decade of fantasy and wonder beyond her wildest dreams, and has continually been treated to luxuries she doesn’t deserve. William owes it to himself, and his country to make a responsible choice about the future Princess of Wales. Yes, he needs to choose a woman he loves, but his privileges require sacrifices on his part, and that means choosing a bride that will be an honorable partner for the people’s sake too. If William was going to wait ’till his late 20s/early 30s to wed, he could have waited to meet a woman who’s getting a PhD, or who runs a charitable non-profit organization, for example. But no : Instead, he’s burdening his country with wishy-washy, Waity Katie.

It’s not about choosing a girl who loves being photographed or relishes living her fantasy of being a fashion icon – or even a real, live princess. It’s about choosing a self-sufficient woman who has something amazing to offer the country and the world: A role model, a charitable, caring person who views joining the monarchy as a responsibility, and an opportunity to serve the people – not just an entitlement to luxurious privileges. Right now, the latter is Kate Middleton; And I don’t foresee her entire irresponsible, pleasure-loving personality changing just because wedding vows are exchanged. What we’ve seen is what we’re going to get as Lady Di’s shoe-filler – if William decides to go through with it. One can only hope that won’t be the case.